The Assistant
by delightful-fear
Summary: Back from Afghanistan, John is not doing well. He takes the job of the live-in assistant to a famous author, Sherlock Holmes, while he writes his latest book. He can handle six months with a moody author while he figures out what the next chapter of his life will be, can't he?
1. Chapter 1

"I have the perfect job for you."

John scoffed, looking at his sister doubtfully as she plunked down on the sofa beside him. "Oh really? As what, exactly?"

She grinned at him fondly, looking very happy and healthy. "Well, you know I got involved in doing improv lately?"

Nodding, John recalled that Harry had tried many different techniques over the years to treat her alcoholism. Improv and acting classes were her latest interest, and judging by her long run of sobriety, seemed to be helping.

"Well, I have a good circle of actor and artists friends now, and I heard of a position through one of them." Harry sipped her tea.

John couldn't picture how he could do any work with an artist or actor. He had no experience in the area. He was a soldier. Used to be a soldier. He had no idea what he was now. "What kind of job?"

"Working as an assistant to an author. It's an easy job." Harry said, looking quite proud of herself.

"Assistant to an author? How the hell would I be good at a job like that? I know nothing about the publishing world." John chortled, pouring himself another cup of tea.

Harry got up, pacing around the room. "Look, from what I heard you wouldn't do anything with his work. It's just taking care of his day to day stuff around his house so he can focus on writing."

John wasn't convinced, but thought the job sounded more reasonable now.

Sitting back down beside John, Harry took his hand in hers. "Look, I know you are feeling crappy right now. You are out of work, your shoulder still hurts, and you need to figure out what to do next. Plus, it's hard to afford a decent place to stay in London with your army pension, even with flatmates."

"If you are trying to cheer me up, this is an epic fail." John tried to lighten things up with a bad joke.

Harry laughed and hugged John tight. "I know I haven't been a good big sister to you, and not very reliable to you in the past. But I've hit rock bottom enough times to recognize it in others. Let me help you, John. Take this job."

John could feel his eyes welling up and pulled back, grabbing some tissues. He dried his eyes and blew his nose, ashamed at the display of weakness. His feelings were so close to the surface these days.

Harry gave him time to collect himself. "Look, John, there are a few things that make it a good job for you. It's only for six months, so you will get chance to figure out what you want to do next. He's staying at his large estate while he writes, so no worrying about paying rent. And the best part is..." Harry grinned widely, clearly excited. "It's in California! It's like being paid to go on vacation!"

"California!" The other points were interesting, but this was the craziest part. "Can't he just hire an assistant from there?"

Harry shrugged. "The author is English, and he prefers to work with English staff, apparently. Let me give you the contact information, and you call his staff soon to get an interview, OK?"

John knew she wouldn't leave John alone until he agreed. "Fine, fine, I'll call 'his people'. Which author is this, anyways?" John had almost forgotten to ask. It was probably some scrawny, bookish man who shunned the sun.

Harry bit her bottom lip. "Um...Sherlock Holmes."

"Sherlock Fucking Holmes? He is such a cocky shithead, and I've heard no one wants to work with him." John jumped off the sofa, walking to the window to look out. _Damn._ The idea had started to grow on him, but even he had heard of the mercurial author, notorious for telling off a few TV hosts during interviews and other bad behaviour.

Harry got up, and walked slowly to stand behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "From what I heard, you won't see much of him. He holes himself away to write all day in his part of a huge mansion. But just call his staff and check with them. What can it hurt?"

* * *

"So, you think I would be a good fit for the job?" John was shocked.

The stylish woman in her fifties gave him a smile. "I think so. Mr. Holmes doesn't want a fan working in his house. He just wants someone to take care of the day-to-day things. Prepare simple meals, take care of the mail, make sure the cleaners and gardeners take care of the place. Run occasional errands. He prefers Brits for handling this stuff for him, finds them more low key and professional."

John mulled it over. He never thought it would get this far. He had made the phone call to appease his sister, and didn't think he'd be meeting with Sherlock's agent, Hazel, for an informal interview like this in her London office.

"I'll tell it to you straight. On the good side, you will stay in the guesthouse, have access to the pool and gym, in a beautiful setting. Your commute will be walking across the yard to the big house. The hours are 9 to 3, seven days a week, with quiet times during the day. Then you have the evenings free to yourself." Hazel said sincerely.

John was finding everything about that appealing. Easy work, a quiet place to get himself back together, no rent.

Hazel leaned forward, lowering her voice. "I will tell you about some potential downsides, so you are forewarned. Mr. Holmes values his privacy and focuses completely on his writing when he has a deadline. He doesn't even want to see people, deal with people, during this time. In the past, he usually just eats breakfast with his assistant to catch up on any urgent business or mail that needs attention. After that, you won't see him for the rest of the day. You will just put out his lunch at a certain time, and leave his dinner in the fridge.

"If you interrupt him while he's working, he can be a grumpy asshole and you will probably be called a few horrible names and hear a dozen curse words." Hazel shrugged. "He's a moody artist with a process we need to respect to get the best work out of him."

John cringed at the thought of eating breakfast daily with the man, even if it was more of a business meeting. The rest sounded fine. "Do I need to dress business casual?" He had been in uniform so much, his wardrobe was limited.

Hazel chuckled. "God no. It's California. You could wear a speedo and thongs, and nobody would look twice. Mr. Holmes is very casual around his house."

This was surprising. Sherlock was never seen in public events in anything but carefully put together outfits, perfectly fitted suits.

"So, will you take it?"

John heaved a big sigh. He could stay in London, in a depressing bedsit, barely scraping by, with no prospects. Or he could go live rent-free on a gorgeous California estate for six months with an easy job, figure things out, and come away at the end with some money saved. It was a no-brainer.

He held out his hand. "I'll take it."

Hazel shook his hand, her smile pleased. "Great! I'll get the paperwork sent over to you and we will hopefully have you there by the end of the month."

* * *

 _Gorgeous. Gorgeous. Gorgeous._

John shook himself out of his spell, and went back to eating his eggs, trying to act normal.

He wished he was entranced by the estate. It was certainly beautiful. On the top of a hill, it had amazing views from every side, and enough trees to make it feel private and rustic. His guesthouse was like a large one bedroom flat. The pool area was as beautiful as one in a decor magazine. The main house was an eclectic mix of modern angles, large windows showing the views, and cozy corners full of books and chairs you wanted to curl up in for hours.

Instead, he was stupidly entranced by Sherlock Holmes. Particularly his eyes, which no picture had done them justice. In person, sometimes they seemed light green, or ice blue. Other times, they seemed darker or the brown hues were more apparent. Seeing them in person, directed at him, made John into a blubbering fool. He hid it well, keeping his mouth shut, and nodding his head. Saying as little as possible.

"Is there any mail?" Sherlock asked, moving his empty plate aside and sipping his tea.

John placed the opened letters in front of Sherlock. "Invitations to events, bills, unopened letters marked confidential, business correspondence." Everything was in its proper piles and date stamped.

Sherlock flipped through it all, telling John which ones he wanted scanned to his London staff, and what to shred. He always took the personal correspondence up to his office to open later.

John gathered up the papers, nodding. Handling the mail usually took less than an hour a day, and he was already predicting Sherlock's responses to most pieces.

"You have a hair appointment at 2 pm and a massage at 3:30." John reviewed the calendar app on his phone. "A car has been arranged."

Sherlock nodded. "What are your plans today?"

John shrugged. "Just the normal things. I'll go down to the farmer's market later this morning."

Getting up, the author stretched, his green tee flashing a bit of his flat stomach. "See if they have avocados that look good. I'm craving guacamole."

Nodding, John cleared the table and watched Sherlock going upstairs. Into his private domain.

Carrying the tray of dishes into the house, he went into the beautiful kitchen. It really was a chef's dream. Huge, new appliances, wide granite countertops, big windows with great views that let in lots of light. The dishes were soon loaded into the dishwasher, and he checked the fridge for what he needed for the next few meals.

After taking care of the mail tasks, John made sure he had his shopping list, and hopped into his car. Another perk of the job was the use of a leased vehicle, a red convertible Mini Cooper. It was a bit of an adjustment driving on the right side of the road, but he just drove to nearby destinations, not going on the big freeways yet.

The farmers' market was always a revelation to John. Stalls bursting with the fresh fruit and vegetables, in amazing variety. He bought new foods every time he shopped there, wanting to try it all.

Back at the house, he stored everything away and got cooking. Putting on a classical music channel, which suited his mood best today.

After chopping up all the ingredients, John started the video on his iPad. Step by step, he followed the recipe, the scent of the fresh garlic and ginger filling the kitchen. Ten minutes later, he was plating a stir-fry with brown rice, and carried a tray out to the south deck. This side of the house was in shadow by this time of day. He set out the meal, a dome keeping the food hot. He messaged Sherlock that lunch was ready and retreated to the kitchen.

Eating on his own, John chuckled over his lifestyle now. The work was easy and the setting beautiful. He had been here three weeks now, and felt pretty comfortable with the routine.

The only hitch had been after his first week. Hazel had emailed him that he needed to vary his meals a little more. It seemed that the author wasn't too fond of beans on toast. She sent him a nutritionist report for the author, giving general guidelines for his meals.

At first, John had balked at the negative feedback. But reviewing the information, the food was still fairly simple. Just sticking to whole grains, lean meats, and adding a lot more fresh fruit and vegetables. He stepped up to the challenge, found many good recipe websites online, and tried new things everyday.

Today's stir-fry had turned out particularly well. Tender chunks of chicken breast, peppers in three colors, onion, cauliflower, broccoli, zucchini and lots of fresh ginger. Pleased, John pulled out his phone, and took a picture of his meal before digging in. It was as tasty as it looked.

He collected the dishes from the south deck, noticing everything had vanished. But the most shocking thing was the bright blue post-it left near the plate. It simply said, **'Delicious'**.

Chuckling, John grabbed his phone, and took a picture of the empty plate with the note beside it. It was a true sign that his hard work was paying off, and his new cooking skills were appreciated.

He washed the lunch dishes and decided to get the dinner ready. It was always something cold he just left in the fridge for Sherlock to eat in the evening as his schedule allowed. Usually, it was a large salad with dressing on the side, like a Cobb salad with chicken, bacon, cheddar, boiled egg, corn, avocado topping the lettuce and vegetables. Healthy but satisfying.

Since Sherlock had mentioned guacamole, John was trying to make Mexican food for the first time. He was going to make a wrap with fresh salsa and guacamole as dips for baked tortilla chips. Still simple and healthy.

More instructional videos helped him prepare everything, and he was careful when handling the fresh jalapeño, washing his hands thoroughly afterwards. He took a picture of the final results, feeling pleased.

Sherlock's dinner went into the fridge, and he took his portion back to the guesthouse fridge. It was easier to just eat the same as Sherlock usually, although occasionally he made an old favorite like beans on toast, or had a bag of crisps.

Glancing at the time, John felt a jolt of relief. It was after 2 pm. Sherlock would be gone for hours with his appointments, John's work was done for the day, and he had the place to himself.

Stripping quickly, John soon had his swim trunks on and ran out to jump in the pool. It was cool, clear and calm. Perfect. It had been ages, years, since he had been in a pool, and John started running through old swim strokes, feeling rusty as he slowly moved through the water.

After a few laps, he felt tired and tread water, looking around with a smile. Floating on his back, he stared up at the clear sky. It was so calm, so silent, and he felt his tension slipping away.

An hour later, John's skin was getting pruney, and he reluctantly got out. Glancing around quickly, he saw he was still alone. He ran a towel over his chest and draped it over his shoulders as he used another one to dry his legs and hair.

Daringly, he stretched out on one of the poolside loungers, the thick padding making it as comfortable as a bed. The sun was strong in the mid-afternoon, but felt good on his cool skin.

He looked down at his body with a sigh. His legs and arms were very pale, and still looked slim. His swim trunks were almost too tight though, the waistband uncomfortable on his stomach. He ran his hand over it, covered by his towel, and felt disgusted. How had he let so much weight pile on?

As a boy, he had been into sports despite being a little smaller than the others. He was quick on his feet, and a good team player. In the army, he stuck to working out enough to stay fit, never struggling with it.

Sliding a hand up to his shoulder, he rotated it experimentally. It ached a little from the swimming, but it wasn't too bad. His doctor had always encouraged him to use it more, to get his strength back.

But the months of recovery time from the injury and being unsure of his future had John hiding away, hardly doing anything, eating cheap food that was easy to prepare. The pounds piled on, and he could tell how shocked Harry and other friends had been by his appearance. He had to buy bigger clothes and now found many of them were tight, since he kept gaining.

Between his shoulder injury and his weight gain, there was no way he would let anybody see him in just his swim trunks. No way he would date, since he couldn't picture undressing in front of someone. Who would want to date a fat, directionless loser anyways?

The sound of a car door slamming jerked John out of his thoughts, and he ran back to the safety of his guesthouse, making sure the towel was hiding his upper body well.

* * *

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: Thanks for reading the first chapter of this new story. I have rough drafts of done for the next few chapters, so I will be posting fairly fast to get you hopefully hooked. ;)


	2. Chapter 2

***** FIVE MONTHS LATER *****

 **Spicy! Yum!**

John chuckled as he snapped a quick picture of the empty plate and the blue post-it, before carrying the tray back to the kitchen.

He washed up, singing along to an old Kinks song from a playlist.

Grabbing leftover grilled steak from the fridge, he sliced it across the grain and added it to the top of a salad of cucumbers, carrots, cilantro and cold noodles. The Thai dressing was on the side, ready to be added at the last minute. He took another picture, although this salad was an old favorite now.

Finishing off in the kitchen, John hummed as he headed back to the guesthouse to stash his half of the salad in the fridge. He changed quickly into his swim trunks, pulling the drawstring tight to keep them from slipping down.

Glancing at the clock, he left the guesthouse at 1:35 pm. Sherlock would have left for his 2 pm appointment by now.

With a whoop, John ran and jumped into the pool. It felt great, as always, and he pushed off from the side to propel himself fast through the water. He did a couple laps with each type of stroke, running through the whole circuit a few times before he felt tired.

Wrapped up tight in his towels, John relaxed on the lounger. It was so good that Sherlock had been going to yoga at an exclusive studio for months now. It meant he was away from the house a couple hours at set times, three days a week. John had swum every time, feeling free to enjoy the pool on his own.

Rolling his shoulder, John was pleased that the range was almost normal now, and even with all the laps, it didn't ache. He was tanned a light golden brown now, with all these frequent times out in the sun.

Pulling out his iPad, John went to his blog. There were three more followers today. It was always good to see his quirky postings were amusing to others.

With a little photo editing, the pictures from today were ready. He posted the before and after for lunch, making sure the post-it was clear to see. A concise review of his work.

Stretching, he went back to the guesthouse to shower and change. He was meeting up with some friends for a movie later.

XXX

Sherlock's phone pinged, and he set down his coffee to check the message.

John was reading the newspaper, crunching on a piece of toast with blackberry jam. But he still heard Sherlock grunt after reading, and glanced up. "Bad news?"

Even after all these breakfasts together, he was still affected when Sherlock's eyes met his. He always had to school his features to look calm and cool, not revealing that it felt like the wind was knocked out of him.

"We are getting a visitor for a few days. Hazel." Sherlock said, sounding unfazed by the change of his schedule.

They had never had a guest before. "Oh! Should I move out of the guesthouse so she can use it? Cook a hot dinner for you? Leave for a few days so you can have privacy?"

Sherlock chuckled. "You aren't someone I'm trying to hide, John. She knows you, she hired you. Stay in the guesthouse, it's your home. She'll Use a bedroom in here."

John felt relieved at that. "And meals?"

"We will probably be eating out more often, so don't worry about doing anything elaborate." Sherlock smiled, trying to calm John down, seeing he was flustered.

John was still a little worried. He had gotten used to cooking for just himself and Sherlock. Sherlock wasn't afraid to leave a note if he liked or didn't like something, and John tweaked recipes until they worked.

He decided to buy some extra groceries in case he had to whip up a few meals. Just to be on the safe side.

XXX

Hazel arrived late the next morning. Sherlock was dressed casually in tan shorts and an untucked red short-sleeved shirt, looking very Californian. John had searched around for a good outfit, but didn't really feel great in anything. With a sigh, he pulled on loose jeans, used a belt to keep them up, and put a navy polo shirt over everything. It was baggy enough to hide a multitude of sins.

"Come on in." Sherlock said with a smile, after giving her an affectionate hug. "It's great seeing you here."

Hazel looked pretty in a floral, aqua sundress and strappy sandals. "Sherlock, I always forget what a great house this is. Why don't you live here year round?"

Sherlock laughed. "Americans."

She rolled her eyes at that, giving his face a pat. "You are awful!"

Turning towards John, she swooped in and gave him a warm hug. "You look great! Clearly the sunshine and the job are agreeing with you, even if you have to be around this asshole a few hours every day."

John grinned. "Most days, it's less than an hour."

"That's wise," she nodded, her eyes glinting with humor. "Keep your exposure down to a minimum. He's toxic in large doses."

"Excuse me. I'm standing within earshot, you know." Sherlock grumbled.

Hazel gave him another patronizing pat on the cheek. "I know, sweetums. Now be a dear and fetch me a dirty martini."

"It's not even noon yet." Sherlock complained as he went to the bar trolley.

Hazel sat on the sofa and crossed her long legs. "It's after seven in London."

John smirked to himself as Sherlock put ice into the martini shaker, and measured out the alcohol. He rarely saw people talking to Sherlock as a peer, teasing him. Hazel was a lot more relaxed with Sherlock than the professional businesswoman demeanour she had presented in the interview with John, so many months ago.

"John dearest, could you make me a sandwich or something? The food on the plane was dreadful." Hazel accepted the martini from Sherlock and took a long sip.

Sherlock had another martini in his hand, looking a little uncomfortable as he sat down.

"I was about to make some shrimp creole for lunch. Are you OK with spicy food?" John asked.

Hazel nodded. "Oh yes, the hotter the better."

The house was open concept, so he could hear a little of their chatting as he cooked. Sherlock got up and made another round after about ten minutes.

John set up the south deck table for two as the creole simmered. He made it a little nicer than it normally was for Sherlock's lunch, adding some flowers as a centerpiece and using some colorful cloth napkins.

"Lunch is ready now. Why don't you get settled on the deck and I'll bring your plates out?" John stepped close to sofa to announce.

Hazel nodded and followed Sherlock out to the deck.

John served up the rice, and the creole over it, making sure each portion had a lot of shrimp. He carried both plates to the deck, placing them in front of Hazel and Sherlock.

"Aren't you going to join us?" Hazel asked before John could slip away.

She turned to Sherlock, putting a hand on his forearm. "Look, I know you normally eat most meals alone when you are working, but I'm here, screwing up your routines for a few days."

Sherlock nodded. "You are right. John, please join us."

Going back to the kitchen, John felt a little weird about all this. He had worked well with Sherlock for months, each knowing their own place, and this was mixing everything up. What if things didn't go back to normal when Hazel left?

Well, he couldn't get out of it now. He would be polite, but quiet. Eat the meal and excuse himself as soon as possible.

He sat down with his plate, and everyone started eating. John felt nervous, watching people eating his cooking.

"Mmmmm..." Hazel moaned, giving John an approving look as she chewed.

Sherlock smiled at her and then John. "He's come a long way, hasn't he? Remember that call I made to you about him after the first week?" He scooped up another forkful.

Hazel chuckled, glancing over at John to include him. "Sherlock can rant and rave at times. He thought you were an awful choice for the job back then. Luckily, you didn't hear any of that and you started making more than just beans on toast and fried egg sandwiches."

John gave a weak chuckle back. He hadn't realized he had been so close to being fired.

Sherlock looked over at John. "You will have to cook that maple salmon for Hazel before she goes. It's so good."

The world seemed to tilt a little at that comment, and John felt a little distant as Sherlock and Hazel chatted on, eating their meal.

 _Wow. Sherlock raving over John's cooking, in front of someone else?_

After all these months, John had thought he was an adequate cook. That his meals were simple, but edible. Sherlock left his short messages, comments that he was on the right track, but had never complimented him directly.

"And you eat like this everyday? How are you not as big as a house?" Hazel was finishing off the last of her meal.

Sherlock shrugged. "The meals are quite healthy. Lots of veg and lean protein. And I workout."

Pulling out her tablet, Hazel seemed to be getting back into business mode. It was John's chance to escape. He stood up, gathering their plates.

"Don't go, John. I have something to discuss with both of you." Hazel waved for him to sit down again.

John's stomach tightened again with nerves. What could she need to talk about now?

"Sherlock, the chapters you have given us for this new book are some of your best. The publisher wants to start creating buzz around it now, ramping up to its release closer to Christmas." Hazel said, her eyes showing her excitement.

The tall man seemed surprised, but pleased. "I'm relieved. This book is such a different direction than my previous ones."

"Well, your timing couldn't be better. People are questioning gender and sexuality more than ever, and to mix the film noir style detective genre into that is a great way to challenge old stereotypes." Hazel said.

Sherlock was famous for his detective novels, his style much more about the facts and the case than the characters. He was praised by many for his scientific knowledge.

Hazel sipped her water. "So, the publisher wants you at the BookExpo. There was a cancellation and they want you to fill it."

"But that's not even two weeks away! This book isn't done yet. You know I never stop in the middle of writing." Sherlock shook his head, gesturing widely.

Placing a calming hand on his shoulder, the businesswoman gave him a direct look. "I know that. But you have to jump at this opportunity, Sherlock. This will start the buzz that could make this book a huge success."

John shifted, feeling uncomfortable still. Why had Hazel asked him to stay? This had nothing to do with him.

With a big sigh, Sherlock nodded. "OK, I'll do it."

"Great!" Hazel jumped up to hug him. "This is your chance to break free, to go beyond the book style you've had. I know you can do it."

He gave her a fond smile. "With you and the rest of the team's support, I can."

Hazel's smile dimmed, and she dropped back onto her chair. "There's a bit of a snag there, poppet." She reached over, taking his hand. "Josie really can't do the assistant role for you anymore. With her little girl's special needs, she isn't working as much. But I have an idea."

Sherlock groaned. "Oh God, you are going to stick me with some twenty-something perky girl, aren't you?"

"No, no..." Hazel sighed. "Quit being such a drama queen. I was thinking John could step up. I'm sure he would do fine."

"Me? What do you want me to do?" John asked, a bit confused. He hadn't been part of book industry discussions like this before.

She swiped a few times on her iPad. "The BookExpo is a huge event each year in New York, lasting a few days. Many prominent authors hold readings and signings, interact with the fans." She looked up, eyeing John critically. "He just needs an assistant with him at the event, kind of as a gopher and helper, keeping him on schedule if he gets delayed by fans. Just helping it all run smoothly."

"Don't you do that for him?" John asked.

Sherlock chuckled.

Hazel shook her head. "No, I'll be busy schmoozing with others in the industry, trying to promote his book and arrange for other appearances. Handling the business side and promotion."

"Well, I guess I can do it." John said, knowing he officially worked for Sherlock for another month anyways.

Hazel smiled widely. "Great! I'll send you the details in a day or so."

XXX

John read over Hazel's emails, feeling more and more overwhelmed as he went. Besides the session with fans, Sherlock was also meeting with many different book industry people, schmoozing at various parties. And John had to go to all of them as well. Assisting. Whatever that meant.

The scariest thing was the woman Hazel had scheduled to come to the house today. A stylist, to review clothes for the trip for both Sherlock and John.

Perhaps he was naive, but he hadn't given his clothes a thought. Now, seeing the schedule, there were many meetings over many days, and John had to help Sherlock present a professional image. Had to look like an 'assistant' of a best-selling author.

His biggest fear was letting Sherlock down. Looking bad, embarrassing him, or saying the wrong thing. He was out of his comfort zone, in a big way.

XXX

Wanda turned out to be nothing like he expected. He thought a 'stylist' would be a woman in a power suit and sky high Louboutin heels, sleek and decisive.

Instead, she was in skinny jeans with tears at the knees, high top sneakers, and angular black-dyed short hair. A confident woman in her late twenties with an edgy style.

After meeting with Sherlock, she came down to the kitchen, where John was nervously waiting.

"Come on, then. Let's go to your closet." Wanda grinned, a dimple on one cheek softening her tough girl look.

"See many skeletons in your work?" John joked as they walked across the lawn.

Wanda nodded. "Clothes say a lot about people, actually. They are a way to express ourselves."

The answer didn't help John's nerves.

His guesthouse was tidy, and he had only brought a couple large suitcases with him for his stay. Still, it took a lot to open his closet doors to a stranger, and let her root through it.

"Hmmm..." Wanda wrinkled her brow as she moved the clothes around and then looked back at John. "Is this all you have?"

John shrugged. "I was in army uniforms for most of my adulthood."

"It's not that you don't have much, it's just that everything in here is a couple sizes too big for you." Wanda said, her dark eyes giving him a curious look.

John made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. "You've got to be joking."

Turning to him, she grabbed the fabric of his polo shirt and pulled it out to the side. "Where are you in all this fabric?" She lifted the shirt upwards before he could stop her, and chuckled at the belt cinched tight to hold up the loose pants. "John!"

He pushed her hands away, tugging his shirt back in place. "Look, I feel more comfortable in loose clothes, OK? I gained some weight in recent years. We can't all look effortlessly good like Sherlock does."

Shaking her head, Wanda gave him a kind look. "We are going to go out to get you a good haircut and some new clothes, billing it all to Sherlock since it's for his business trip. Trust me, OK?"

And something in her sincere gaze just clicked with him, and he nodded.

XXX

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

John peered out of the plane window, trying to see the Empire State Building or another landmark he recognized. There were lots of buildings, but nothing that sprang out at him.

"This is your first time to New York." Sherlock said as John settled back into his seat, preparing for landing.

It wasn't a question, but John nodded anyways. "Yup. I had never been to the US before working for you."

"We won't have much time for sightseeing, with the Expo." Sherlock warned.

"I know." John gave a nod of acknowledgment. "This is a business trip."

The words made him look down at his clothes, checking that he still looked presentable after being on the plane so long. It was still a bit jarring to see himself in the fitted clothes, feeling like they showed too much, even though Wanda had assured him dozens of times that he looked great. It would take some time to get accustomed to his new look.

Wanda had a good eye. The clothes were fitted to John's build, the hems to the tops of his shoes instead of bunching around his ankles. Wearing shirts a couple sizes smaller, and usually tucking them in. Suit jackets paired with dark washed denim. Neutrals he could mix together easily.

When the plane stopped, John stood and slipped a light leather jacket on, and grabbed his messenger bag. He noticed Sherlock looking at him closely. "What? Is something wrong?"

Sherlock blinked a couple times. "Ah, no. Just thinking about something else."

Exiting the arrivals area, they gathered their luggage and John spotted their driver with his sign.

In the back of the town car, John pulled out his tablet. "OK, we will probably have a couple hours before the wine and cheese tonight. Would you like to go out for dinner, or just order in room service?"

"You are probably looking forward to not cooking for a few days." Sherlock joked.

John grinned back. "Well, making sure you are fed three times a day as been my main job for months. Old habits will die hard."

"My schedule is a bit thrown off with the time change. How about you order me a big salad and stick it in the fridge, and I'll eat it sometime before we go. I kind of want to go for a quick swim and have a nap." Sherlock said.

They reviewed the schedule for the next day, and John felt better about things. It was a lot like their normal breakfast meetings, sticking to business.

John jumped into the assistant role at the hotel, leaving Sherlock in a big chair in the lobby playing around with his phone as John got them checked in. Unfortunately, it looked like Hazel had booked them a suite with two bedrooms. There were no separate rooms available.

Sighing, John got their key cards. It wasn't that much different then how they lived now, sharing some spaces, and sleeping in different rooms. _Except this was only 500 square feet, not 5000._

They got into the room, and John could see Sherlock seemed tired. "Look, you go rest. I'll order supper in about an hour and knock on your door when it arrives."

Sherlock nodded, heading into his bedroom.

It only took a few minutes to unpack. John didn't feel like watching TV. Sherlock's earlier mention of the pool sounded enticing. _Just a quick swim. Twenty, thirty minutes, then back here for a shower before I order supper._

Changing into his new swim shorts, John threw on a hotel bathrobe and some flip flops. He was out the door in five minutes.

XXX

 _Perfect._ John sighed as he stared at the ceiling; doing the backstroke through the calm, empty pool. The rhythmic motions helped him unwind, the stress of the trip melting away. He needed this.

He was almost done when he heard a splash nearby. A wave of water went over his face and he moved to tread water, coughing a little.

"Oh, sorry, John. I didn't mean to get you like that." Sherlock was in the water right near him, his dark hair already wet and slicked back off his face, making it look more angular. Making his amazing eyes look even bigger, especially when surrounded by wet eyelashes...

Realizing he was probably staring, John shook his head. "Um...no...it's fine." He noticed that Sherlock's eyes had fallen to his shoulder, and he ducked deeper into the water. "Enjoy your swim."

Maybe it was rude, moving away and doing a few more laps of the pool. But at least Sherlock started swimming too, moving easily through the water with his long limbs.

Timing it carefully, John waited until Sherlock spun to swim away before getting out of the water, wrapping a huge towel around his upper body and scooping up his robe. He escaped before Sherlock could say anything.

XXX

"What types of books do you write?" The question came from an attractive woman with short red hair and large, dark-framed glasses.

John smiled at her, glad for a friendly face at the busy event. "I'm not an author. I'm Sherlock Holmes' assistant." He held his hand out, introducing himself.

"Amy Mosier. Pendant Publishing." Her dark eyes were intelligent as they flicked to Sherlock and then back to John. "The buzz around Sherlock lately is that his long awaited next book has a gay detective as the central character. Are you and he...?"

John's eyebrows shot up. _Oh, so that was what Hazel had been talking about at the house._ "No, I'm just his assistant."

"Well, that's good." Her eyes looked at him a little warmer. "So, what do you like to do when you aren't 'assisting'?"

Flicking a glance at Sherlock, John could see he was in a deep conversation with some industry types, and didn't seem to need anything. No harm in chatting with an attractive woman, was there?

John gave her a warm smile back. "Well, I've been living in LA the last few months, so I've tried a lot of strange things."

"Strange things?" Amy chuckled, looking curious. It had been a while, but John could tell she was interested. Maybe she liked his accent.

Feeling a little flattered by her attention, John chuckled. "You've heard of meet-up groups online? I didn't know anyone in LA, so I went to quite a few of them."

She nodded back. "I read an article recently where a woman tried 30 different groups in 30 days."

"I tried any group that sounded appealing. Hiking Runyon Canyon, drum circles, tennis, Latin dancing, restaurant clubs, 'Explore LA like we don't live here', 'I want to do that...just not alone', soccer, nudist men's classic movie club..." John listed, waiting for Amy to stop him.

"Did you really go to a 'nudist classic film' group?" She seemed most amused by that one.

John chuckled. "Well, I would have done, but in the group description they said you had to be a 'fit, height-weight proportionate, nudist gay, bi or brave straight guy'."

Amy looked confused. "And you are a shy straight guy?"

"No, I didn't qualify based on the 'no fatties' part of that." John patted his stomach.

She glanced down at his stomach. "You look fine to me. I'm sure any nudist film group would be happy to have you join."

John took a sip of his drink. "Well, enough about me. Are you in any nudist film groups?"

It was completely silly, and he knew they would probably never see each other after this party, but it had been a long time since John had bantered with someone. It felt good.

Amy straightened up, looking away from John. Following her gaze, he saw that Sherlock was standing beside him.

"Oh, are you doing OK? Need help with anything?" John asked, suddenly realizing how long it had been since he had checked on Sherlock.

"I think I'll head back to the hotel." Sherlock said dryly.

"Oh, OK then." He turned to Amy. "Well, Amy Mosier, as you can see my boss, Sherlock Holmes, is here and I must bid you Adieu. It has been lovely chatting with you."

She nodded, pulling out her phone. "Wait, let me get your number before you go. So you can send me some pics if you join that film group."

He entered his number in her contacts, and she texted him. He pulled out his phone and waved it at her.

"Night, Amy."

As he left with Sherlock, the taller man leaned closer. "A film group?"

"Yes, she was kindly telling me that I wasn't too chubby to join a nudist one." John was giddy enough from flirting with the woman and getting her digits that he overshared a little.

"They have nudist film groups? And you want to join?" Sherlock got into their car.

John shrugged. "I was a little bored so I was trying new things. I figured if I was ever going to try a nudist event, better in warm California than in soggy, cold England."

"Do you usually bring up nudist film groups when talking with women?" Sherlock seemed stuck in the topic.

John patted his phone in his pocket. "Not usually, but it worked. Maybe I should make it part of my regular technique."

"You have a technique?"

This was far more personal than they usually talked. Was it being in a different setting, far away from their normal surroundings? Was it the couple drinks they had at the party, loosening their tongues?

John laughed. "I used to. They used to call me 'Three Continents Watson' because I was pretty good at chatting up women."

Sherlock was strangely quiet.

"How about you? Do you have a line or two you use when you first meet someone?" John nudged his shoulder.

Letting out a deep sigh, Sherlock shook his head. "No, I've never really 'chatted up' someone."

John looked at the man beside him, so beautiful, smart and successful. His voice gave away his posh upbringing. "Hmmm...yeah, I bet they have always chased you. You never had to work for it."

"'It'?" Sherlock echoed back.

"Sex, love, relationships..." John rolled his eyes a little at that. Was Sherlock being deliberately obtuse?

They stopped outside the hotel. "Hmmm... not really my area." Sherlock said cryptically, before hopping out of the back of the car.

John stood beside Sherlock as they rode the elevator. It was strange. They had worked together for months, and they hardly knew each other. They had talked more openly in the last hour than ever before. Was Sherlock like that with everyone?

John had only read one of his books, years ago, and it had left him cold. The writing was good, the mystery interesting, but the main character was so detached from people.

Was that character based on Sherlock?

XXX

"It's been good meeting you today. Would you give your contact information to my assistant?" Sherlock smiled warmly, and shook hands with the woman at the booth. She was clearly quite bamboozled by meeting the attractive author in person.

John chuckled, watching Sherlock working the people at the next booth, Hazel at his side. He was being friendly and funny, making a great impression.

Getting everyone's contact information and company info was John's job. He would be sending everyone follow up letters in the next week or so, signed by Sherlock, of course, saying how great it had been to meet them. It was all part of the process, marketing yourself, putting a face to the name, and getting your name to stick in their memories.

John took a break to go get them all cold bottles of water. They had been talking a lot, and getting thirsty. He saw Amy at her company's both, and she gave him a little wave.

When he got back to Sherlock and Hazel, they were looking a little tired. Hazel shoved a handful of business cards and brochures at John, and he tucked them with the others in his messengers bag.

"Let's take a break outside, before we go to that lunch. We can work the rest of the hall afterwards." Hazel commented, leading them outside.

It was the end of May, and the weather in New York mild. They found some benches in the sun, drinking their water. Hazel and Sherlock were chatting about the event last night.

Pulling out his phone, John checked his messages. There was one from Amy, and it sent a thrill through him.

 **Not a nudist yet, I see. -A**

John texted back.

 **Well, most nudists wear clothes in public and at work. But they are always nude, under their clothes. -J**

It started a silly banter back and forth. Amy was obviously bored at her table, and John was just happy to be flirting, even in this mild way. He was rusty, and he had forgotten how much fun it could be.

He was chuckling at some of her responses, and Sherlock looked over at him.

"What has you so amused, John?"

John quickly finished the message he was typing and hit send. "Oh, nothing important." It was like getting caught passing notes in school.

Sherlock gave him a long look. He was dressed in a suit, wearing a sage dress shirt with no tie. He looked good. Around the house, he was in loose, drawstring pants and tees usually.

At the lunch, John got put at a table apart from Sherlock and Hazel. It was like a wedding reception, large round tables seating eight all over the hall.

John shrugged; knowing Sherlock would be given help by Hazel, if needed, and would message him if John needed to do something. He left his phone out as the meal was served.

The older woman on one side of John was talking intently with her other neighbor, so John looked to his other side. It was a man close to John's age, with brown hair.

"So, are you an author?" John tried out Amy's opening line. It seemed like a good one at the Expo.

The man seemed to welcome John's question. "No, I work for a small publishing house. We concentrate on non-fiction."

"Is that going well?" John asked. He hadn't thought about the business side of the book business much, and wanted to know more.

The man took a sip of water. "It's fairly steady. Compared to fiction, non-fiction is still mostly in hardback and trade paperback, not as affected by e-books. Are you an author?"

John shook his head. "No, I'm assistant to Sherlock Holmes." He pointed discreetly at Sherlock at the other table. "He writes detective fiction."

"Matthew Rogers." The man held out his hand, and John introduced himself as well. "So, do you mostly read detective fiction then?"

John chuckled, and he leaned closer to Matthew. "I must confess not really reading much of it, and I've only read one of Sherlock's books, years ago."

Matthew laughed loudly at that. "You are honest! So, what types of books do you buy?"

Thinking it over, John shrugged. "Some thrillers, but I mostly surf the internet, looking for ideas really. Oh, and I bought a few cookbooks lately."

"Cookbooks are still growing in sales a little. Celebrity chefs usually do well." Matthew nodded. "So, you like to cook?"

John thought about it, and nodded. "It's a new interest. It's part of my assistant job, doing some cooking for Sherlock, and he can be a little opinionated. I started cooking better to keep him quiet, but now I find I enjoy it."

Matthew chuckled. "What kind of things do you make?" He looked down at their dull chicken meals.

John shook his head. He brought up his blog on his phone, and scrolled through the pictures for a more interesting chicken dish. "Here's a red curry chicken I made the other day."

Matthew took the phone, and looked intently at the picture. "That looks much better than our lunch." He zoomed in on the picture beside it. "Why is there a picture of the empty plate and a post-it saying 'Spicy! Yum!'?"

"These are lunches I make for Sherlock. He eats on his own, not wanting distractions when he's working, but leaves me post-its on the meal. My food wasn't so good when I started there." John felt a bit embarrassed to say.

Matthew scrolled down on the phone, seeing the other pictures. "Wait, you have been posting all this online?"

John shrugged. "I took a night class in social media and decided to try doing a blog, just to see if I liked it. Blogging about cooking seemed like a good way to track my progress. I never expected to get any followers. I don't use Sherlock's or my name on it."

"You have followers?" Matthew was chuckling at some of Sherlock's post-it comments.

"Um...a couple hundred. But I've only been doing this a few months." John took his phone back. "It's just for fun."

Matthew pulled out his phone. "I like it. It combines new technology with cooking, blogging about it. What's your blog called? I'd like to follow it."

John felt pleased at his interest. "It's called 'Fit for a King', since the recipes have to be healthy as well as tasty."

"Sherlock is your King?" Matthew glanced over at the author, involved in his own conversation.

John shrugged again. "Maybe it's being English. But he lives in the huge mansion, and I live in the small guesthouse on his property. He's the boss, I'm the assistant, which means I'm the cook, secretary and errand runner mostly."

"And blogger." Matthew added in.

Rolling his eyes, John nodded. "Oh yes, he would be lost without his food blogger."

The presenter came to the podium, so John and Matthew turned to listen.

XXX

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: -John/Sherlock: Just an FYI to people reading this...I am interested in having a Johnlock story where they have equal power/agency. This is not a sub/dom relationship, or big, strong man vs small, weak man type of dynamic.  
John at the beginning of this story is a bit depressed and lost for what to do for work. He is getting stronger, learning more about himself, and gaining some skills. He is in a new country, doing a new job, and it's taking some time to get his confidence back. John is not the little 'housewife' to Sherlock, and he will be getting back to his BAMF self in time.  
Sherlock is going through some transitions as well.  
I hope you will give the story time to unfold.

-LA Meet-up Groups: Those are all actual meet-ups from the website, including the Nudist mens' classic movie nights.


	4. Chapter 4

_"... and of course I have to mention the elephant in the room."_ \- Sherlock, The Sign of Three

 **Warning** : I have had some feedback that this fic is a little out of character for John & Sherlock.

If you prefer a story that is more in character, I really liked the AU 'Performance in a Leading Role' by MadLori. I just reread it lately & it's amazing.

If you are open to reading on, I thank you for indulging my artistic license to play around a bit with our beloved characters. :D

* * *

"Sherlock, why don't you take tomorrow morning off? Get a massage, eat a leisurely meal, get mentally prepared?" Hazel said Friday night at another business dinner.

John looked at Sherlock. He seemed a little drained from having to be 'on' so much, schmoozing with industry big wigs the last few days. Having to be nice for long periods of time sapped his energy.

"I heard about a place midtown that is supposed to have amazing jambalaya. Want to go try it, see if it's better than mine?" John offered, knowing Sherlock hadn't been too keen on the food at the Expo.

Looking back and forth between Hazel and John, Sherlock gave a tired smile. "I sense collusion here. You two are conspiring behind my back."

Hazel guided him out of the ballroom. "No, but we care about you. You are our meal ticket, and if you bomb tomorrow, we'll have to get real jobs." She smirked at Sherlock playfully, and gave him a big smooch on the lips. "John, take Sherlock upstairs and make sure he goes to bed. You have my permission to use whatever means necessary to do so."

"Ropes, zip ties, leather straps?" John joked back.

Hazel gave him a saucy grin. "Kinky! Well, whatever you two get up to behind closed doors isn't my business." She spun on her heel, heading back into the party. These types of functions were networking gold to her.

Sherlock was giving John a few sideways looks as they rode up the elevator, just the two of them.

"What?" John finally turned to face him. "Why are you looking at me strangely the last few days?"

The taller man brought his hands up, steepling them below his chin as he mulled something over. "I'm a great judge of people. I read them when I first see them, and I'm rarely wrong."

John had heard Sherlock's comments about people at their breakfast meetings, and had seen over time, how freakishly accurate they were. He nodded. "Yes...and...?"

"You have surprised me on this trip, John." Sherlock said softly, looking at him like he was fascinating.

Having those incredible eyes on him like that, interested and unflinching, was a lot to take. "I'm just an ex-soldier. Dull!" He tried to reduce the tension by using one of Sherlock's phrases jokingly.

"No, quite the opposite, I am starting to think." Sherlock said.

John was relieved when the elevator doors opened. He rushed to their suite, fumbling with the swipe card.

Sherlock sunk down onto the sofa, kicking his shoes off. "Sit down, John."

Unable to quickly think of an excuse, John obeyed. "Are you nervous about the reading tomorrow?"

Shaking his head, Sherlock looked towards the window. Tall buildings surrounded their hotel. "No. It will be a mix of fans and some press. Some might not like the change of my writing style, but I won't back down from it."

"Do you think it will lose you fans?" John asked.

Sherlock shrugged. "Perhaps. But maybe it will gain me new ones, or win back old ones."

John swallowed hard. Had Sherlock overheard his comment that he had only read one of his books, and didn't like it?

"Let's go back to our earlier discussion." Sherlock sat forward, looking at John intently. "How much weight have you lost, John?" His eyes looked very green in this light.

John looked down. "Um, I don't know. I'm down a couple sizes, I guess."

"I only noticed on the plane, when you pulled on your coat. Why do you wear such baggy clothing at home?" Sherlock asked, looking at John critically.

Scoffing, John shifted in his chair. "They weren't baggy when I came to L.A.!"

Sherlock looked pleased. "Yes, that confirms my initial assessment of you. Those clothes were almost too tight, and now they are falling off you. That is quite an accomplishment."

John still felt uncomfortable talking about this. "I didn't do much. Just eating the same thing you did."

"You also swam, but never when I was at home. Did you think you weren't allowed in the pool? Trying to do it behind my back?" Sherlock pinned him with another all-seeing glance.

This was worse than a police interrogation, with bright lights being shone in his face. "No, Hazel told me I could use it, and the gym..."

Sherlock nodded in understanding. "Oh, you feel self-conscious because of your weight and the shoulder scar. Well, I've seen you in the pool here now. You have nothing to feel shy about."

The idea of swimming with Sherlock, stretching out on the loungers, talking and laughing, flashed into John's mind, and he chuckled at how ridiculous it seemed. Sherlock was fit and beautiful, a male model practically. John was slimmer now, but hardly perfect. Even at his best, he had never been one to flaunt his body. He relied on his humor and friendliness to attract people.

"I can see you have reservations still." Sherlock commented, likely reading every emotion that flashed over his face. "Well, let's work on your confidence while we are both in L.A. You can get a gym routine going, start coming to my yoga class, use the pool daily."

John laughed at the idea of going to yoga with Sherlock, and doing the rest. "Um, thanks...but..."

He didn't get a chance to go on, since Sherlock was leaning forward again, his eyes still intense. "Are you gay or straight?"

The question seemed to come out of the blue. "What? Why are you asking..."

Sherlock waved an impatient hand. "Yes, it's probably not 'PC' for me to ask you, but I didn't expect my shy, frumpy assistant to suddenly look hot in tight clothes, and start flirting with anyone who comes close."

"Flirting! I haven't been flirting with anyone." John was still reeling from the 'look hot' comment. Sherlock thought he looked good?

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock pointed at John's phone. "You've been texting that redhead from the first night, and you certainly looked cozy with that man at the dinner yesterday. I saw him pull his phone out. Are you going to be sexting with him as well?"

"I was talking to him about my blog!" John gave Sherlock a glare that was half disbelief, half anger. "I just work for you, Sherlock. You don't own me."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "You leave the estate most evenings, and you joked so easily about tying me up with Hazel. Is that what you are involved in? What you like?"

John gave a half-laugh at the question. "Sherlock, what the fuck are you talking about? I was just joking around with Hazel." His irritation faded. "Look, Sherlock, you are tired, being out of your normal routine this week. Follow Hazel's advice, take the morning off, and we'll go out a great lunch. Your reading isn't until 2pm. We won't be rushed."

"Fine, fine...I'll go to bed. No need for you to tie me down to it." Sherlock said as he got up, stretching.

John smirked. "I wouldn't do it anyways. Wouldn't want you to have red marks on your wrists when you are signing books."

The cheeky comment got another flicker of surprise and another assessing look, before Sherlock mumbled goodnight and went into his room.

John chuckled as he turned on the TV, keeping the volume low as he found an old comedy. It was funny how thrown Sherlock was by his behavior on this trip. He wasn't acting the way he normally did, and Sherlock looked like he didn't know what to expect at all.

Thinking back in their interactions, John couldn't blame Sherlock for his impression. John had been nervous about screwing up in the job at first, and not feeling all that great about himself back then. During the breakfast meetings, they went over the mail and schedule mostly, not chatting about personal things. They read the paper together, and John had come to like the companionable silence of it. He wasn't much of a morning person, and Sherlock didn't seem to be either. They both just clasped their coffee cups and weren't too chatty that time of day.

The weight loss had been very gradual, and John's casual clothes didn't show it. It was only when he had been shopping with Wanda he was really aware of it himself. She passed him trousers in his old size, and they fit. He had looked in wonder in the mirror, twisting around to see his body from all angles, making Wanda laugh hysterically.

That night in bed, he had run his hands over his stomach. It was flatter, but not firm. He swore to start doing sit-ups the next day.

It was also funny that Sherlock had noticed that John went out most evenings. John assumed Sherlock was writing, or spending time with his own friends, either at home or out. He didn't pay attention to the cars coming or going from the estate when he was done work, even when he stayed home.

If Sherlock was so curious, why had he never asked John about what he did at night? John was a fairly open, friendly person.

It all pointed to Sherlock's nature. He was a bit distant from most people, seeming aloof, perhaps snobby. He had made enough sneering comments about Americans that John knew he could be judgmental.

Once John had settled into the job, he had felt a bit lonely. The eight-hour time difference meant he couldn't call up a British friend in the evenings. He hadn't even considered Sherlock as a possible friend. He was in a whole different league. One of the rich, educated, beautiful elite.

So, he had tried out online meet-ups, just to be around people. Some meet-ups didn't work out, or were dull, but he eventually made some friends and got new hobbies.

XXX

"Did you mention having a blog?" Sherlock asked, right as John took a big bite of Andouille sausage.

John almost choked, but he turned away, finishing chewing and then took a big sip of water. "Um...did I?" When in doubt, vacillate.

Sherlock looked a bit impatient with that answer. "Yes, when things got a little heated last night."

"Was that before or after you accused me of being a dungeon master and sexting everyone?" John smirked, liking it when Sherlock got testy. He was easy to bug.

"Isn't a dungeon master the organizer of role playing dice games? I think I accused you of being into the bondage scene." Sherlock chuckled, and John smiled back.

It was rare to see Sherlock's humorous side, and John planned to tease him more. They only had a month left for this job. There wasn't much risk he would lose his job over a bad joke now.

John nodded. "Yes, I get them all hot and bothered with my sexts, lure them into my dungeon, and then blog about it." He managed to keep a straight face for it.

"Well, I don't know why you were bothering with that red haired woman or that man. They are both New Yorkers." Sherlock shot back, playing along.

Sighing, John didn't even bother to ask how Sherlock knew they were New Yorkers. It was likely some obscure clue only he had noticed, like dirt on their shoes that could have only come from Soho.

"I'm thinking of starting a franchise out here." John replied.

Sherlock nodded. "Does your work visa allow you to stay in the US that long?"

John tapped a finger on his chin. "Hmmm...I will have my lawyer look into that."

Their server came by, clearing their plates. They ordered pralines and coffee, still chuckling.

Sherlock, relaxed like this, smiling, was incredibly attractive. John sighed, looking away.

"Seriously though, you have a blog?" Sherlock asked.

John took a sip of coffee. There was no way to deflect such a direct question. "Yes, but nothing on it to connect it with me." He deliberately kept the details vague. He had signed a non-disclosure agreement before working with Sherlock.

"But you were telling that publishing guy about it." Sherlock said calmly.

It took a minute. _Oh Shit._ Matthew knew his name and that he was Sherlock's assistant. If he looked at the blog, it would be pretty clear who John was cooking for. "Damn. Maybe I should talk to Hazel about this... Look, don't worry about this now. I'm sure it's nothing. Just think about your reading, and we'll discuss this later today."

Sherlock sighed. "There's a Q&A, John. If this has got out at all, I could get questions about it. It's better if I'm prepared, not blindsided."

John could see the point, and no way to really argue against it. With a sigh of defeat, he opened the blog and passed over the phone to Sherlock, cringing internally.

Sherlock scrolled through, his eyes avidly looking at it, seeming a little shocked at some things. "What's with all these texts about being a nudist, John?"

Scoffing, John grabbed his phone back. "I gave you my phone to look at the blog, not to snoop around on everything else!"

The tall berk seemed unrepentant. He picked up his own phone. "Fine, I'll look at the blog on here. What is it called?"

John flushed slightly. "Um...'Fit for a King'."

Sherlock grinned widely at that, but his expression dimmed when he found the blog, scrolling through it. "Hmmm. So you have posted pictures of my lunches for the past few months. I could sue you for everything you own for this breech of my confidentiality." His tone was flat and serious.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. Really! I thought it was pretty harmless since it's just about cooking, really. But you are right, I should have checked it first with you or Haz..." John blurted, wanting to make everything right again...but then he saw Sherlock's lip twitch in amusement.

"You cock! You absolute cock!" John exclaimed, looking back at the openly laughing author.

Sherlock turned away, his shoulders shaking he was laughing so hard. When he turned back, his green eyes were still gleaming with mirth. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist...Your face, the way it dropped when I said I'd sue you. So priceless! I wish I had that on video."

Shaking his head, John tried to relearn how to breathe, the tension in him unwinding and the humor now hitting him. He started to chuckle along. "Yeah, if you sued me for everything I owned, you would get only a battered up army uniform and some cuff links passed down to me from my grandfather. Hardly worth the trouble, I'd think."

Sherlock's lip twitched again. "Well, I could arrange to garnish future wages for the millions you would owe me."

John was glad now that everything was out in the open. "So, you had a good sleep, a massage, an amazing meal, and a good laugh at me. Feeling refreshed and ready for this afternoon?"

Rolling his shoulders and angling his head down to each shoulder to stretch his neck, like a prizefighter about to enter the ring, Sherlock nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Good." John said as Sherlock passed the server a credit card with the bill. "So, the blog truly doesn't bother you then?"

Sherlock signed the slip when it came back, and gave it back to the server with a smile that had her seeing stars. "It's pictures of food and some silly post-it notes I wrote. Harmless. Feel free to continue it if you enjoy it and it helps motivate you to try new recipes. I'm getting the benefit of the great food, after all."

As they went out and hailed a cab, John felt better. He felt he was finally getting to know Sherlock as a person, as maybe even a friend now, after all these months. Yes, he still had moments were Sherlock's gorgeous eyes or the beauty of his profile tripped him up for a second, but he was getting used to dealing with them. He had become adept at just looking away, taking a deep breath or two, and going on like nothing happened.

XXX

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-Sherlock Transcripts: Just wanted to give a big thank you to Ariana DeVere for her wonderful, detailed transcripts of all the episodes, which are such a great reference for writers. Please check out her site on livejournal.


	5. Chapter 5

_"Move out of the way, Malloy!" he almost spit at me._

 _Instead I pulled him through a half-open door into a dark office. Then he rushed to the window and opened the curtain a crack. He peered out into the wet blackness. He motioned me forward._

 _"The killer is gone," he said under his breath. "You'll find him alive and well somewhere, when he wants to be found."_

 _I leaned against Emmett and pressed him against the wall with my body. "There's no hurry. All this was arranged in advance, rehearsed to the last detail, timed to the split second. No hurry at all."_

 _His face was in deep shadow, but I saw his eyes fall to my lips. He put his hands up and took hold of my head and kissed me hard._

 _Fumbling hands made quick work of buttons, zippers. I couldn't resist biting into his neck, feeling Emmett shudder against me. We only had five, maybe ten, minutes in that dark office until the security guard would be doing his rounds..._

John had to look away from Sherlock, standing at the podium, reading from his unpublished manuscript. His deep, rich voice was made for this. He should do his own reading of his audiobooks.

Looking at the packed hall, John could tell his fans were just as riveted by his words. It was dead silent, not even the odd rustle or cough you usually got with crowds. He looked for signs of disapproval or disgust, from the content of the reading, and saw none.

Pulling out his phone, John set it to video and panned over the audience to capture their rapt attention. He held it on Sherlock as he finished his reading, setting the papers down, and looking back up at his fans. There was a heartbeat or two of silence, and then the crowd burst out into wild clapping. John caught the flash of joy and satisfaction on Sherlock's face, before a small smile appeared.

John panned back to the audience, many now getting to their feet, still clapping. The thunderous sound echoed around the room, almost making John's ears ring.

Eventually, Sherlock held out his hands, moving them downwards in a gesture to calm the crowd, to get them to sit back down.

"Well, thank you!" Sherlock looked happy and sincerely touched by the crowd. "Being here today means so much to me. As an author, I am practically a hermit for most of the year, up in my ivory tower, crafting my stories. I pass the words to my editor, and eventually see them in print. Then I wait to see the sales numbers, getting to see the readers' reaction after months and months of work."

He reached down for his water bottle, taking a long sip. "But today, I believed in you, my readers, and read you this section from an unfinished book. You can see it is quite a departure from my old writing style. This is much more character driven."

"Your response at this time is just what I needed, to slay those lingering traces of doubt. So, I'm very glad I crawled down from the ivory tower, shaved off my matted hermit beard, had a shower, and came out here." Sherlock grinned, self-depreciably.

The audience ate it up, laughing along with him.

John stopped recording, putting his phone away, and getting up to help handle the microphone for the audience questions.

Many of them were about details of his old books. Sherlock's memory was amazing. He never even looked down at his notes as he explained forensic details from books he wrote five years ago or more.

"Are you in a relationship?" A woman asked, wearing a Sherlock Holmes t-shirt and old jeans.

Sherlock gave her a kind smile. "No. I have been single for a few years now."

The answer got some cheers and hoots from most of the women of the audience, with one loud cheer that definitely came from a man. Everyone chuckled at that.

Shrugging with a wry grin, Sherlock smoothly moved on to the next question.

XXX

It was hours later when John crashed on the sofa with a big sigh. "Sheesh! Is it always like that? That was exhausting!"

After the Q&A, Sherlock had done a book signing. As he didn't have a new book currently being promoted, the publisher had set up a display of his older titles for purchase. Most of the audience brought in old copies though, hauling out duffel bags sometimes. Sherlock sat at his table, chatting with them as he signed.

John had a post-it pad, and went along the line, jotting down what the readers wanted Sherlock to write in their books, ensuring their name was spelled correctly. He stuck the note into their top book.

Hazel and the security staff kept things moving along in an orderly fashion.

Many asked for selfie pics with the author, and he obliged, often making them chuckle with comments like "Hey, keep your hands above my waist," to a woman over seventy.

Sherlock nodded, sinking down beside John. He looked limp. All the energy burnt out of him.

Hazel perched on the arm of the sofa, almost shaking with excitement. "Did you see that?! They loved it! Loved you!" She punched Sherlock's shoulder and slipped down into his lap, giving him a loud, enthusiastic kiss on the cheek. "Oh, this is publicity gold! I'm going to get you on every morning show there is."

Sherlock chuckled weakly at her. "Yes, yes. Go plan your blitzkrieg somewhere else, would you?" He gave her a playful shove to get off his lap.

Taking no offence, she hugged him tightly. "Oh, Sherlock, this is going to skyrocket your career. Finish this damn book soon, so we can really get it out there."

Sherlock's arms came around her, and he gave her a sincere hug, the slim woman dwarfed against him. "I wouldn't be here without you, kiddo."

She pulled back, rubbing a hand near her eye to wipe away a tear. "Kiddo? I'm fifteen years older than you, jailbait." She clambered off his lap, giving them both a happy smile. "Great work today, boys. You fly back to LA tomorrow, so I won't be seeing you until you are in London, right?"

John nodded, thinking of the schedule. "In a month or so." Suddenly, it felt so soon. Six months were almost up.

With another round of hard hugs and cheek kisses, this time including John, Hazel finally whizzed out of the suite.

"Let's order obscenely large steaks and two bottles of red." Sherlock said, his hands working on the buttons of his shirt as he sat up. "I'm going to have a long, hot, hot shower."

John grinned as Sherlock headed into the bathroom. He called down to room service, glad Sherlock was indulging himself a little during this trip.

XXX

"So, you'll be ready at 1:30?" Sherlock drawled, when John finished going over the schedule for the next few days.

John sipped his coffee, running a hand through his hair. "You'll never stop nagging me to go, will you?"

They had been back home for about a week now, and things were mostly back to normal. John welcomed the quiet serenity of their hilltop after the busyness of the big city. Loved being back in his own bed with the down comforter and soft pillows. Even liked getting back into the routines of his normal assistant role.

But everything had shifted slightly between Sherlock and himself. They chatted more during breakfast, commenting on articles in the paper. Sherlock lingered for a second cup of coffee most days, seeming in no rush to get writing. Maybe he was just procrastinating.

"Nope." Sherlock said simply, popping the 'p' deliberately, and then grinning.

Rolling his eyes, John sighed in defeat. "Fine, fine, fine. I shall go to your bloody yoga class. But if I hear one chuckle out of you, I'm out of there."

"John, in yoga, I am balancing my ying and yang, centering my chi, aligning my chakras. I wouldn't deign to laugh at a fellow practitioner of the eastern arts." Sherlock said with a surprisingly straight face.

Shaking his head, John got up to clear the breakfast dishes. "You should give up writing and become an actor. You could have won an Oscar for that performance. I could really feel your sincerity."

Smirking as he left, Sherlock seemed so much warmer lately. More like a friend than a boss.

After doing the dishes, John had his grocery list ready, but he didn't feel like running errands yet. It was a beautiful, mild morning and the outdoor pool was just too tempting.

Quickly changing in the guesthouse, John wrapped a towel over the back of his neck so it covered most of his chest as he walked to the pool. After kicking off his flip-flops, he threw the towel to the side and dived in. On the slim chance Sherlock had been watching from the window, he wouldn't have had much of a chance to examine John's chest.

John pushed hard with his laps, cutting through the water as fast as he could. It took more now to get his heart rate up, and he wanted at least twenty minutes of aerobic activity. He could feel it straining his shoulder, but not enough to slow down.

Eventually, he did a few slower laps, letting his heart rate come back down and ended by floating on his back in the center of the pool, looking up at the blue, blue sky.

This was so nice, being here. Living in luxury, quiet, eating great food, having a spacious living space to himself.

In a month, he would be back in London, searching for a place to live and work. He could stay at Harry's until he was settled, crashing on her lumpy sofa. He had a good chunk of savings from this job, but didn't want to dip into it too much. He was already searching for job prospects and flats. Maybe he could do a flat share, since he didn't have any furniture.

Maybe he could find a similar job in England, cooking and assisting some rich toff. Maybe it would be a fancy flat or house with servants quarters, maybe an indoor pool and gym he could use. It was an exciting possibility. Did they advertise such positions on Workopolis or was there a special agency for it?

Getting out of the pool, John was distracted with the idea, and toweled off absentmindedly. It was only when he looked for his flip-flops that he saw Sherlock sitting on a lounger working on his tablet. _How much had he seen?_

"Hey John, I was reading over your blog and I'm craving your cabbage rolls. I wanted to catch you before you ran errands to see if you could get ingredients to make them." Sherlock said, squinting up at John, the sun in his eyes.

John bowed mockingly. "Yes, Your Majesty. Your wish is my command."

Sherlock chuckled as he got up. "Ooooh, watch out, I could get used to that."

Laughing, John went to the guesthouse to shower. But the work prospects mixed up with the mention of his blog, and a great idea hit him while drying his hair.

 **The reign is almost over! My six months on this job are almost up. Looking for a new position doing healthy, tasty cooking and light duties, preferably in England. Send me a message if you have a lead.**

It didn't take long to post the message to his blog. He had almost a thousand followers now...maybe they could help find him a good placement.

XXX

"You still wobble so much whenever you stand on one foot. I keep expecting you to fall over." Sherlock smirked as they headed back to the car. "It's hard to relax when I'm keeping an eye on you, ready to shout 'Timber!'"

John did up his seat belt. "Oh. I thought you were checking out my ass. I was going to call up Hazel and make a sexual harassment complaint."

"That woman crawls all over me, and kisses me with tongue. When she's sober! I doubt she would find anything inappropriate in my behaviour towards you." Sherlock pulled into traffic.

Rolling down his window, John enjoyed being the passenger. The weather was mild and sunny, and he felt relaxed. This was the third time coming to yoga with Sherlock and he liked it, found it was good for core strength.

He also liked the easy banter he and Sherlock had, lightly teasing each other most of the time. It had been like this since they had returned from New York. Sherlock had even started eating lunch by the pool with John. John, in turn, used the pool after breakfast most mornings, not as shy if Sherlock happened to see him from his office.

John glanced back at his friend. "So, I shouldn't bother to call her unless you are actually shoving your hands under my clothes?" Somehow, he doubted he would be complaining if it happened.

"She probably wouldn't think that was off-limits either. I've had to pull away from her overly-familiar hands a time or two." Sherlock chuckled, as he parked the car.

"Why exactly do you keep her as your agent?" John gathered his towel and yoga mat, sipping from his water bottle.

Sherlock cocked his head to the side, waving a hand towards the house.

John's eyebrows rose. "You have all this from writing? I thought you also came from a rich family." Sherlock's accent certainly said he had gone to Eton or some other exclusive boarding school.

"We are rich in connections, but on the poorer side of that lot. I'd probably be sharing a cheap flat in London if I didn't write." Sherlock went towards the door.

John paused, and then turned back to Sherlock. "Speaking of connections, do you know of anyone who could use my services? I'm trying to find a placement for when I'm done here next month."

Sherlock seemed taken aback by the request. His eyes seemed an ice blue as he stilled, just staring at John.

"Sorry, sorry...forget I said anything. I went too far, asking you." John rushed in to say, giving Sherlock an apologetic look. "You have been great to work for, and I'm really grateful for your patience with me while I was becoming a better cook."

The tall man nodded slowly. "Your food is delicious, John. I'll miss having it when I go back to London."

"I'm thinking of taking some cooking courses, to make myself more marketable. Tuition costs are high, but this could grow into a career." John snapped his mouth shut. He was babbling, feeling nervous a little. They had been joking around so easily, but Sherlock seemed to be a bit closed off now. "Um, well, goodnight."

He headed back to his guesthouse, ready for a quiet night in, maybe working on the blog and job searching. Emailing Harry for ideas.

XXX

John chuckled as he raised his left leg out straight behind him, and his arms stretched out in front of him. The balancing stick pose, one of the ones he always wobbled on.

Sherlock nearby was, of course, positioned perfectly. John's eyes traced over his long limbs, at a 90 degree angle to the floor. Strong legs in black yoga trousers. And his ass in the form-fitting material...John looked away, concentrating on holding his pose.

Outside afterwards, John leaned against the side of the SUV, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of the hot sun against his skin. Maybe he had been reprogrammed by his years in Afghanistan, had learned to love the sun, the heat, the brightness. In only a few weeks, he'd be back in the U.K., green and lovely, but hot, sunny days like this were rare.

"Careful you don't burn, John." Sherlock's voice was a low rumble, and very close by.

Opening his eyes, John was surprised by how near Sherlock was standing, looking down at John with a friendly smile. He had a hand resting on the car near John's head.

In this light, Sherlock's eyes were a fascinating mix of colors, sage green and aqua, a hint of hazel. John caught his breath at how beautiful they were, looking at them this close, and felt really tempted to lean in to kiss Sherlock.

Unbidden, his eyes dipped to those full lips, so close. When he looked back up, Sherlock's eyes seemed even more intense, darker. Was there a spark of interest there?

The slam of a car door nearby made them both jump, the moment broken, and John moved to climb into the SUV. His heart was still thumping in his chest as he buckled up, glad to have something to keep him busy as Sherlock sat down beside him. So close. And now they were going back to the house. Together. Alone.

Looking out the window as Sherlock drove, the silence between them was not an easy one. It had never felt tense and uncomfortable like this before. John let out a sigh of relief when Sherlock flicked the radio on, a classic song from The Clash playing.

 _This indecision's bugging me (esta indecision me molesta)_  
 _If you don't want me, set me free (si no me quieres, librame)_  
 _Exactly whom I'm supposed to be (digame que tengo ser)..._

John sighed, looking out the window. Along with being better friends with Sherlock lately, his attraction had grown stronger. He had always thought Sherlock was good looking and intelligent, but to see his humorous side had made him even more appealing.

It was still a ridiculous attraction. Sherlock was on a totally different level than John, way out of his league. Successful, rich and beautiful. A triple threat.

John may have looked better and felt healthier than he was six months ago, but he was under no delusions about himself. He was, at best, average looking. Not ugly, but not really good looking. He was reasonably intelligent, and he met people by being friendly and good-hearted. He laughed easily, and flirted any chance he got. When he was attracted to someone, either a man or a woman, he usually turned up his charm a little, and watched for signs of returned interest.

But to try to be with Sherlock was just laughable. There's no way it would amount to anything. In a few weeks, John would be back in London, couch-surfing at his sister's and trying to figure out what to do next. He couldn't afford to screw things up with Sherlock, who was really his boss, over a few moments of attraction.

The SUV stopped, and John hopped out quickly. He just needed to escape, get some space, some perspective. Maybe he could call up his friend Maria and go out for some drinks, vent a little. She was always having problems with her boyfriend.

Sherlock stood near the SUV, watching John head back to his guesthouse, his expression troubled.

XXX

-Disclaimer: I own nothing

-A/N -I will post chapter 6 tomorrow, and then slow down from daily chapter postings. I'll likely post a couple times a week until the story is completed after that. Thanks for reading all these daily chapter updates. :D

-Raymond Chandler: I used a slightly modified excerpt from the Raymond Chandler novel, 'The Big Sleep', for Sherlock's reading. Instead of the hero kissing a femme fatale, he is kissing a 'homme fatale' ( Chandler was an oil company executive who lost his job in the Great Depression and became a detective story writer at the age of 44. (It's never too late for us to start!) His first novel, 'The Big Sleep', was published a few years later, in 1939. His protagonist, Philip Marlowe, was played in the movie by Humphrey Bogart. Wikipedia: Chandler "...is considered to be a founder of the hard-boiled school of detective fiction, along with Dashiell Hammett, James M. Cain and other Black Mask writers."


	6. Chapter 6

John set down a big pitcher of sangria, and poured out three glasses.

Hazel grabbed her's, taking a long sip and smiling over at John as he sat down. "Yum! That's delicious, John."

Nodding in acknowledgment, the praise didn't ease the knot in his stomach. He sipped his own drink, looking between Sherlock and Hazel.

Setting down her glass, Hazel sat up, her posture showing she was getting down to business. "I know you both saw the pictures that have come out this last week, and I thought it best we look at all the options together."

Scrolling on her tablet, she showed them both the picture that had started it all. That damn picture of Sherlock standing near John by the SUV, the angle of the shot catching the warmth in his eyes and his slight smile. It looked very intimate, like they were about to kiss. The caption had asked who was the new man with best-selling author, Sherlock Holmes.

Within a day, the paparazzi shot was all over the Internet on his fan websites, and other pictures of John with Sherlock started surfacing. Many from the BookExpo, of John helping out at Sherlock's event, but also at other events.

One of the most shared things was a video from the restaurant, showing them talking and laughing together, oblivious to anyone around them, and then John saying loudly, "You cock! You absolute cock!" And Sherlock laughing hard at John.

John hadn't seen that video before, and he viewed it like he was a stranger, watching two men together. It was obvious they were friends, knew each other well. With the other pictures, it supported the rumors.

Flicking a quick glance at Sherlock, John found it hard to read his response to everything. Was he upset? Angry? Insulted by the insinuation that they were a couple?

Hazel set the tablet down with a sigh. "Have you two been out in public anywhere else? Are more photos likely to surface?"

John shook his head. "We have only been to yoga a handful of times, and then together at the hotel in New York, and out for that one meal."

"It's nothing, Hazel. It will blow over pretty quickly. We are just friends, and if I just reinforce that in interviews, the story will die." Sherlock said calmly, sipping his drink.

It was a relief to hear that. John wasn't experienced in dealing with the press. He didn't want some pictures to cause problems for Sherlock.

Hazel finished off her sangria and poured herself another glass, topping up everyone else's. "Or we can take things in a completely different direction..." She had a huge devilish grin, her blue eyes dancing as she looked at each of the men.

John shifted in his seat, and looked over at Sherlock. He had known Hazel for years, knew what she might be thinking.

"Hazel..." Sherlock growled, the warning evident in his tone. "What foolhardy idea do you have now?"

Leaning forward, she placed her hands over Sherlock's, giving them a little squeeze. "Your book is with the editors, and I know you usually don't need many rewrites. The publisher is aiming for a release at the beginning of October, to get good Christmas gift sales." She grinned. "Instead of letting this blow over, we could let this blow up."

John's main feeling was one of dread. Hazel looked very excited with her idea, and she seemed more impulsive than most English women. Than most women, actually.

"I'm afraid to hear more..." Sherlock's comment reflected what John felt.

Hazel grinned, a little maniacally. "You new book is great, and deserves attention. This picture is getting attention because you are normally extremely private with your private life. Seeing you in these pictures with John is making people look at you in a new way. We want them to do the same thing with your writing."

John had a feeling he knew where she was leading. "So, you think we should have _more_ pictures together?"

She nodded. "Exactly."

"Oh John...don't you see what she wants?" Sherlock drawled, turning to face him. "She wants us to act like boyfriends."

 _Boyfriends..._ The word seemed to echo, and John sat there, stunned, as Hazel gave him a bemused look. Sherlock's expression was a lot harder to read.

John shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around the idea. "But I'm moving back to London in a few weeks."

"So is Sherlock. He writes for the first half the year in LA, and does research for next book the rest of the year in London." Hazel replied, looking far too pleased with herself. "He tried writing in the U.K., but it just didn't work. The story was just too dark and depressing. Being in sunny California with regular exercise and good food seems to result in his best work."

Sherlock tapped his long fingers against the table. "Would it be best if John lived on his own or with me?"

Hazel took the question as Sherlock accepting her idea, excitement in her eyes. "Well, you appear to live together now. Better to continue that, than appear to become less intimate."

"You are seriously considering this?" John said to Sherlock in disbelief. "Come on now. Surely you see that no one will believe this."

Sherlock looked a little irritated and confused. "They are already speculating about us. If we keep being seen together, it will confirm their suspicions."

John sputtered. "But...but...you and I...together?" Sherlock, gorgeous, rich Sherlock, was going to date simple, poor John? People would never believe that Sherlock would date someone like John.

Tilting his chin up a little, Sherlock gave him a cool, assessing look. "I won't cross any boundaries with you, John. We will just hold hands, stand close, give each other some lingering looks. Or are you afraid that it will ruin your future dating prospects with women?"

"No, no, I'm bi." John shook his head impatiently. "So, we just act like we are together, and that's it?"

Hazel could tell Sherlock was on board with the idea, but John couldn't picture it yet. "Look, John. We are asking a lot from you here. Having you act like Sherlock's boyfriend for a few months will create some tabloid and entertainment show coverage, help him get his name into the public awareness again. Seeing him dating will make his softer side more apparent. So, when this book comes out, it will seem less out of character for him. He can talk about why he wrote such a different book this time, get people interested in it."

John could see the reasoning, and from the reading knew that the book was good. Deserved good sales, to be given a chance. "Yes, I see that, but..."

"John, perhaps we can sweeten the pot a little. When I asked Sherlock what your plans in England were, he said you were looking for a similar live-in post, or considering taking cooking courses." Hazel sat forward, her negotiation face on. "We can offer you both in return for doing this. You would live at Sherlock's place for three months, and we would cover the cost of your tuition. You would go to cooking school while he is doing his research. You would just need to be seen in public together two or three times a week."

The offer was incredibly generous. "Cover my tuition? That can be thousands of pounds!"

Sherlock was tapping on Hazel's tablet. "Look, _Le Cordon Bleu_ offers intensive cuisine courses during the summer. Thirty hours a week, for three months, and you would walk away with your basic and intermediate certificates."

" _Le Cordon Bleu_!" John's jaw dropped in shock. It was one of the best schools, with locations all over the world. But ridiculously expensive. "That would cost over £10,000!"

"£14,000, actually." Sherlock supplied, and set the tablet down.

John got up from the table, his head reeling, just needing a moment. He walked a few dozen steps across the lawn, just looking out at the familiar beautiful view, letting his breathing return to normal, his heart to stop thumping wildly.

It was a crazy idea. But he was started to see the possibilities. The press seemed to believe they were a couple, and going out a few times a week wouldn't be hard. He enjoyed Sherlock's company. It would be nice to know he had a place to live, a job, for the next three months. And to leave there with the cooking certificates from such a good school...it would really help him find his next job.

What were the downsides? John didn't like the idea of being the attention of so much media. Sherlock was used to being in the public eye, but John wasn't. Did he really want his image lingering in people's minds of being Sherlock's boyfriend? Would that screw up future job prospects, make them take him less seriously? Or screw up future dating possibilities?

The advantages far outweighed the slim chance of future problems. People had short-term memories, and he doubted anyone would remember him after the New Year, when Sherlock was probably photographed ringing in the year with a sexier, big name date.

With a nod, he returned to the table. "I think this could work. Let's hammer out the details."

The answering smiles from Sherlock and Hazel made John feel a burst of affection for them both. They were friends now, and he wanted to do what he could to help them.

XXX

"Oh my God..." Sherlock moaned, licking his lips.

John chuckled at his friend's look of rapture. "It's just a simple hollandaise."

Digging into his Eggs Benedict, Sherlock took another bite of the poached egg and ham, with a liberal coating of the sauce. His moan was practically pornographic. "This cooking course is already worth the tuition costs."

John shook his head at his friend's antics, and finished his own breakfast. It felt good to have a leisurely brunch, after being so busy with school and settling back into London life the last couple weeks.

"Don't get too used to me cooking for you, Sherlock. As the course goes on, I'll probably come home too exhausted to do anything beyond microwaving a frozen dinner." John warned.

Sherlock nodded. "I know, I know. I'm back to my usual eating habits in London. I know good restaurants all over the city that are open late."

John had noticed Sherlock was out a lot more in the evenings, often not coming home until the wee hours. It would have been hard to cook for him anyways when he kept such varying hours. "Well, if I cook something half decent for myself, or to practice a recipe, I'll leave you some in the fridge. Text you that it's there."

It felt a bit strange to not be responsible for Sherlock's healthy food habits anymore. Apparently Sherlock's cleaning staff stocked the fridge each week. John saw that simple foods were missing over a few days, showing Sherlock ate sporadically.

Their schedules were a little opposite, with John up early to get to school on time, and coming home to an empty flat. He ate a simple dinner in front of the telly, letting his tired brain and body rest. And then headed to bed early, exhausted. Sherlock was sometimes in the flat then, but usually out.

Weekends were better. They both slept in late, and John whipped up brunch with whatever looked interesting in the fridge. They talked, catching up on their weeks, joking around.

"There's a movie premiere tonight I was thinking of going to. Would you be up to going with me?" Sherlock asked, sounding nonchalant.

John swallowed hard, and took a sip of coffee for his suddenly dry mouth. "Um...like red carpet, all that?"

So far, their 'dates' had consisted of going to Ming, a new Asian fusion restaurant, a walk around Hyde Park, and going to a hot yoga studio. All normal things. A movie premiere was a celebrity thing, where they would certainly be photographed a lot.

"Would I have to wear a tux?" John asked.

Sherlock chuckled. "No, no...it's not the Oscars or anything. Just dress nice, something that photographs well."

John knew this was part of their deal, but it felt like it was an announcement, in a way. Purposely going together to an event where there would be press, where they would pose for pictures and talk to press if they were interested. This couldn't be dismissed as friends going out together. It would say they were at least dating, if not a couple. There would be no going back after this.

Letting out a deep breath, John gave Sherlock a small smile. "Great. What time will we leave for it?"

XXX

John tugged on the lapel of his jacket, shifting as he peered out of the window. His stomach tightened with nerves as he saw the crowds gathered and the barricades to keep the people away from the red carpet.

Sherlock nudged his shoulder with his own. "Don't worry. I'm not a that big a name. Everyone will be watching for the stars of the film, and hardly notice us."

As their car slowed, John did a few deep breaths, calming himself like he did before going into battle. Their driver opened the back door, and Sherlock stepped out, waving to the crowds. John stepped out behind him, taking a second to make sure his clothes were hanging straight.

Earlier that day, he had stared into his closet, and felt a bit lost. A quick text helped.

 **Wear jeans, the brown lace ups, a white dress shirt and the navy suit jacket. Have fun! -W**

Following Wanda's advice gratefully, John had put on the clothes, looking over himself carefully. It was dressy enough, but still comfortable.

Now, he could see her advice was good. The big name celebrities wore designer suits and dresses, posing for the flashing cameras at every turn. The rest of the people attending were dressed well, but not to the nines.

Sherlock wore his bespoke black suit with ease. A fitted aqua dress shirt with no tie brought the look together, the color making his eyes even more intense. John could hardly look away from his handsome date.

He was used to walking red carpet events, and calmly took John's hand, leading him slowly towards the crowd.

Occasionally, his name was shouted out by a fan watching from the barricades, and he would step closer to greet them, chatting with them, signing things, posing for selfies. Sherlock was also recognized by some press, and John stepped away so he could pose alone against the backdrop promoting the movie name.

"Sherlock Holmes..." A peppy blonde latched onto his arm, dragging him in front of her cameraman. She shoved a microphone into his face with a mic flag of 'E! Now!' logo on it. "There is quite the buzz from your New York reading from your newest book."

He smiled smoothly into the camera. "Yes, Sheila, my publishers were a little scared about my new writing style, but my fans were very enthusiastic about it."

"I am a big fan of your 'just the facts' central character in your books. Your new protagonist is said to be much more in touch with his emotions." Sheila asked.

"Roarke is a very socially isolated man, and I've enjoyed writing him over the years." Sherlock paused, collecting his thoughts. "Some things have happened in my own life lately, and I wanted a new character, Malloy, to explore the world through."

Sheila grinned widely and turned towards John, standing off to the side. "Is one of the new things in your life your date tonight?"

John blinked a few times, the bright light on the video camera making it hard to think.

"Yes, one of them." Sherlock stepped up to John's side, wrapping his arm around his waist and giving him a warm smile.

"Ahhh, new love." Sheila sighed, and then she thanked Sherlock and moved onto the next celebrity she recognized.

John's heart was still pounding. "Um, shit. Should I have said anything?" He did not think he would be interviewed on air. Had not prepared for it.

"Sorry about that, John." Sherlock took his hand again, giving it a squeeze. "You did fine."

It was a relief when they entered the theatre and worked their way to their seats.

XXX

The movie turned out to be a comedy, and John enjoyed it. He was distracted though, by Sherlock sitting beside him.

Even though they were doing more things together lately, they had never watched a movie together. John felt aware of the man sitting so close. Heard his laughter, his reactions. Kept thinking about how it had felt to hold hands on the red carpet.

It was such a strange situation. Acting like they were more than they were, friends pretending at being more. As much as John's head understood this, his heart, his body didn't. He was reacting to it like it was real, even though he knew it wasn't. Feeling Sherlock's large hand clasp his sent a jolt of warmth and awareness through his body. When Sherlock gave him a warm look, or stood closer than he normally did, he was subconsciously reading more into it.

There was a real, real danger here. A danger that John's crush could grow into deeper feelings. Feelings that Sherlock would not return, not welcome. They were simply friends, enjoying each other's company. Helping each other out for a few months. Sherlock expected him to be a mature adult and keep that in mind.

John sighed. He would have to limit his contact with Sherlock as much as possible. Their schedules were different enough he should be able to do it. They would go out a few times a week for their 'dates', but John could avoid him the rest of the time.

The lights came up, and Sherlock gave him a rueful smile. "We will just make a quick appearance at the after party and then head home, OK?"

John nodded. "That's fine."

XXX

The after party was put on by the studio, an elaborate affair with a live band, buffet table and open bar. John would have normally been having a great time in such a setting, but seeing so many familiar faces studded here and there throughout the crowd made it obvious what type of group it was. He was a little star-struck, and kept quiet instead of embarrassing himself and Sherlock by gushing all over people.

Sherlock made his rounds, chatting easily with people he knew, introducing John to them. John knew it was Sherlock in business mode, acting friendly and happy.

John probably wouldn't have noticed Sherlock stiffening up beside him if they hadn't been holding hands. He looked up at the taller man, searching for a reason, and traced his eye line to a man around their age with straight dark hair. He was talking and laughing with someone, and John's first impression of the man was that he was smarmy. Fake.

 _How did Sherlock know the man, and why did he react to seeing him like that?_

John was still pondering it when Sherlock turned to face him. "I'm so glad you could come to this premiere with me tonight, John." His smile was so warm and genuine, John lost his train of thought.

"Um...yes, well, it has been an interesting night, Sher-". John started to respond, when Sherlock bent down over him, one hand along the side of his face as their lips touched. It was a thorough, deep kiss, totally robbing John of any thoughts.

After a second, he found himself kissing Sherlock back, a hand going to the sleeve of his suit to stabilize himself.

Sherlock grinned down at John fondly when he lifted his head, his eyes darting between John's lips and eyes. "I'm sorry, I know you don't like PDA, but I couldn't resist." He looked playful and young, beautiful.

John nodded, his eyes huge. "Um...yeah...well, I'll forgive you this one time." He leaned into Sherlock, acting like he wanted a hug but really just needing a second to collect himself.

 _Sherlock had kissed him! In front of everyone!_

They left soon after that, Sherlock guiding him into the back of their car. The driver got them away quickly.

"John, I'm sorry." Sherlock said as soon as they were a block away. "I know that wasn't part of our agreement, but I had a good reason for it."

Arching an eyebrow, John waited in silence for the explanation.

"Sebastian Wilkes." Sherlock stated, as though John should recognize the name. "We went to school together and he was firmly in the closet. He always resented that I rebuffed his advances, and it's not pretty when I run into him from time to time."

"So you kissed me in front of him?" John thought he understood, but wanted things to be clear.

Sherlock sighed. "I thought it easier to show him that I'm in a relationship than deal with him. I hope you didn't mind too much."

John shook his head. "Um, as long as he doesn't keep showing up everywhere we go." Truth was, his head as still spinning from that unexpected kiss. "Let's stick to just hand holding and lingering looks from now on, OK?"

He just might get through these three months without getting too attached to Sherlock if they did that. But if being kissed randomly became part of their outings, John knew he would eventually push Sherlock against a wall, kiss him hard and deeply, not caring who was around.

Sherlock nodded, the streetlights flashing over his profile as them traveled, his expression hard to read.

XXX

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: I'm really happy with the support you are giving to this story. Thanks for reading so far, and for the kudos and comments. This is the last daily posting. I'll slow down to 1-2 postings a week as I write the last half of the story.

- _Le Cordon Bleu_ : This cooking school first opened in Paris in 1895, ten months after the first culinary magazine in France, _La Cuisinière Cordon Bleu_ , started being published weekly. The school was well regarded, even getting students from other countries like Japan and Russia. Graduates eventually opened a London branch in 1935, and in the US in 1942. The schools expanded a lot since the 1990's, and are now one of the foremost training institutions in the world, and maintains a presence of 50 schools in 20 countries, training over 20,000 students of more than 70 different nationalities every year.  
John takes the basic and intermediate courses, which normally take 6 months, in the more intensive three month period. He only needs to do the superior level course (3 more months), to get his _Diplôme de Cuisine_. It costs around £20,000 for the three courses.


	7. Chapter 7

"And here's another angle." Hazel crowed, turning around her tablet to show Sherlock and John yet another picture from the after party.

John sighed, pouring himself more coffee from the carafe.

Hazel had been at the flat early on Sunday, practically bouncing like a rubber ball, she was so excited. Sherlock and John were still sleepy, dressed in bathrobes over their pajamas and with messy hair.

Feeling too tired and lazy to cook, John put out some fruit, cheese and bread. Coffee was all he wanted right now.

After going to bed, he had laid awake half the night. Reliving that kiss, over and over. Seeing Sherlock standing so close, his eyes dropping to John's lips, and then diving down to capture them. Such a firm, confident kiss. No hesitation. And the surge of pure want that rose in John once the shock had worn off. If the kiss had lasted any longer, he probably would have tackled him, pushed him onto the floor, grinding together.

Thoughts of the kiss had him completely aroused last night, imagining ten different ways it could have gone. Sherlock lifting his face to whisper how much he wanted John, and urging him to leave now. Or admitting in the car how much he'd been wanting John, and simply couldn't resist anymore. Kissing him again, even hotter and longer, and continuing when they got home.

Such sexy thoughts led to John 'taking things in hand', and he was finding it hard to look Sherlock in the eye today.

Now Hazel was showing them picture after picture of the kiss, from various mobile phones obviously, the image quality not always that good, but still good enough. John, looking a bit dazed by the kiss. Sherlock giving him a warm, intimate look afterwards. A shot of John's hand clutching Sherlock's arm for support.

"The buzz is really building about you two, just as I hoped it would. Everyone is wondering who John is, and how serious things are between you." Hazel chirped, popping some grapes into her mouth.

Sherlock grinned and nodded. "That kiss was a one-off, Hazel. Don't expected a repeat on further outings."

Hazel looked a little disappointed at that, but soon brightened again. "Well, they will just keep bringing up these pictures, whenever you are spotted out together. That will work just as well. If you kissed too often in public, it would look phony. Staged."

John finished his coffee. "Well, I'm off to hit the books. Test on food safety tomorrow."

He was glad to escape, leaving Hazel and Sherlock to hash out their media game. Aside from appearing out on dates with John a few times a week, Sherlock was doing some interviews and author events. Routine activities to keep his name and face known, keep his fans interested. Building in frequency leading up to the book launch.

The flat was large by London standards, but small compared to the LA house. It had three bedrooms, one serving as Sherlock's office. John's was the smallest of the three, the guest bedroom, furnished with a double bed, a small desk and chair by the window. It was simple but suited his needs fine. He was only going to live here a few months, after all.

John knew he should be studying, but he searched for more pictures from the movie premiere, saving copies to his computer. By next year, he'd be looking back on this crazy time with Sherlock with disbelief. Funny how his life had been turned around. From an unhealthy ex-soldier with no prospects, to a healthy culinary student. Fake-boyfriend of a hot, best-selling author. What would his dating life be like when this was all over? Would it intrigue people or scare them away?

 **What the fuck is this? -H**

The text made John chuckle. She had a picture of the kiss attached.

 **It's nothing, truly. Just helping a friend with some promotional stuff, Harry. -J**

 **You are so full of shit. I know that smitten look on your face. -H**

John sighed. Harry knew him too well.

 **Fine. But any feelings are one-sided, not worth pursuing. -J**

 **Hmmmm...we'll see about that. You two look good together. -H**

That text came with a picture John hadn't seen before. It was from the restaurant in New York, Sherlock's head thrown back in genuine hard laughter and John looking at him fondly. There was such an ease between them, real friendship and affection, and the picture captured that moment well. John saved the picture, adding to the rapidly growing album.

He texted with Harry a little, catching up on her latest dramas with Clara, and making plans for dinner after school later in the week.

Procrastinating some more, John pulled up his blog. He posted some pictures from his class the last week, apologizing that he had been too busy with school to do daily postings.

Posting a picture of a cake he was very proud of, he commented 'Maybe one day I'll be a Masterbaker. ;)'

The blog was still gaining followers slowly, comments showing up on older posts. Looking over a list of the followers, one name stuck out, a company name that looked vaguely familiar. John googled, and found it was the publishing company that Matthew worked for. He followed the company in return.

With a sigh, John pulled out his textbook to study. The book learning and tests were the hardest. He loved the hands on cooking the best, picking up many new techniques. There were only ten people in the course, so the instructors gave them lots of well needed individual attention.

XXX

 _"Has anyone ever told you that you are a disgusting, pus-filled bubo who has all the wit, charm and self-possession of an Alsatian dog after a head-swap operation?"_

John almost did a spit take, laughing with a mouthful of red wine. He was half-drunk already and with the week he'd had, he planned to have a few more glasses.

He turned to share a glance with Sherlock, both grinning at the classic space spoof. "This is brilliant, Sherlock. Just what I needed. I can't believe you actually own the first seasons of this show."

"'Red Dwarf' was huge when I was in school. Everyone was always quoting it to each other." Sherlock confessed, taking another big sip of his wine. It was a fine vintage, and far too easy to drink.

John tried to picture Sherlock back then, as a gangly, awkward teenager, and just ended up giggling at the image. "Sheesh, you must be a few years younger than me then." John had been in his early twenties when the show was popular, and he could recall joking around with his friends about it at the pub.

Sherlock waved a dismissive hand. "Five years." He grabbed a handful of crisps, eating them quickly. "And I should thank you for watching this with me."

Seeing Sherlock all scruffy, eating junk food and drinking too much just made him seem more human. More real. It had been a little surprising to come home after a long week of school to find Sherlock like this, buried under a pile of blankets, watching a twenty year old TV show. When Sherlock had groaned that he had writer's block, John had simply nodded and joined his friend on the sofa. Mindless entertainment, some good laughs, just forgetting about the outside world for a while. They both needed it.

About an hour later, they ordered pizza. An hour after that, John didn't feel so good. The coffee table was covered with evidence showing the cause. Empty bags of crisps, a pizza box, an open package of biscuits with only a broken one left. Three bottles of wine. Sherlock was very drunk and half-snoozing, his head at an angle that looked uncomfortable.

Turning off the TV, John lurched to his feet. Getting his hands under Sherlock's arms, John hauled him upright. He swayed alarmingly, so John wrapped an arm tight around his waist, pressing him to his side, and shuffled them towards Sherlock's bedroom.

For being a few inches taller than John, Sherlock was very slim, and it wasn't hard to get him onto the bed. John looked him over, deciding to just loosen a few buttons at his collar and let him sleep in his clothes.

As he worked on the buttons, Sherlock opened his bleary eyes, peering up at John with a grin that was a little too wide. "You are pretty. Did I ever tell you that?"

Chuckling, John shook his head. "Um, no." He moved the covers and encouraged Sherlock to settle into the bed.

"Stay here with me." Sherlock's hand was tight around John's wrist, tugging him closer. "Kiss me again."

Unbidden, John's eyes fell to Sherlock's full lips, a little stained from all the red wine. This was close to the fantasies John had been having more and more frequently, and his breath caught at how tempting Sherlock looked. It would be so easy to accept the offer, crawl into this bed, and worry about the consequences later. They could always blame it on the alcohol, just like the song.

"Can't. You're my boss." John knew he wasn't explaining it very well, but it was the best his tired, drunk brain could manage. He pulled his arm away from Sherlock's grasp.

"Nooooo..." Sherlock pouted. "We are boyfriends. And boyfriends have sex."

Chuckling, John pulled the covers over Sherlock. "We are only pretend boyfriends." And the only sex they would be having was in John's head. In his over active imagination. Pretend sex.

He headed to his own bedroom, stripping down to his pants, and climbing into his bed. He immediately opened the bedside drawer, pulling out the lube. This was happening more and more often. Living with Sherlock in this flat, he was seeing him more often in passing.

Good thing he was planning to leave at the end of September. He could last until then. And then maybe get a girlfriend or boyfriend, some relationship totally about having lots of sex together, completely carnal. Get rid of all this built up sexual tension that his left hand was only scratching the surface of. He didn't have time now, with the long hours at school, and dates with Sherlock.

XXX

"So, you newest book is getting a lot of buzz. I think we have a clip from your reading in New York." The dark haired woman smiled into the camera as the clip started.

Sherlock tried to keep his face neutral, pleasant, as he heard his words. Some parts worked, but a few words jumped out as sounding strange.

Diane chuckled, patting his arm. "You looked like it was hard for you to hear."

"I'm my own worst critic." Sherlock admitted.

"Well, we are certainly all looking forward to your book now, coming out in three weeks. People are already saying it is a lot different than your previous books." An image of the new book went up on the screen behind them.

Sherlock shifted forward in his chair. He looked fantastic in dark grey trousers, with an indigo blue dress shirt. "The main character in my older books was Roarke. He was very scientific, objective, and a bit cold as he investigated crimes. For this new book, I wanted a character more in touch with his emotions. A flawed hero, a more relatable one."

Diane nodded. "Your style has been the hard boiled detective, inspired by film noir and authors like Elmore Leonard. Are you staying in that genre?"

"Yes, but with a twist." Sherlock said with an endearing smile. It showed how much he cared about his work. "I keep the elements of the gritty 1930's, but my protagonist is gay. Instead of a femme fatale, he is intrigued by a man who might be involved in the crime he is investigating."

"In recent months, you have been seen out quite often with this man." Diane changed the picture to the one by the SUV, the chemistry between them undeniable. "There has been some speculation about who he is with your fans."

Screenshots from Sherlock fan websites flashed across the large screen, giving many theories about John.

Shaking his head, Sherlock chuckled. "My fans are wonderful, but sometimes they get carried away."

The picture changed to a close-up of the kiss. "What can you tell me about him?"

Sherlock looked down for a second. "He started as my assistant, in LA, and we just hit it off."

Diana looked at the picture a long time. "I'll say you do!"

The audience cheered at that, and Sherlock shrugged.

"So, he lives with you in London as well. Is he still your assistant, even though you are a couple now? That must be uncomfortable." Diane pressed on.

It was more personal questions than he was used to answering, but he followed Hazel's advice, being as open as he could. "No, John has become more interested in cooking lately, and he's taking some intensive courses at _Le Cordon Bleu._ I have to fend for myself mostly."

The host's dark eyes sparkled, and she sat back in her chair. "Hmmmm...you know that fits in with what one fan was saying on a website. Is it true that John runs a food blog, posting pictures of your meals?"

The screen flashed through pictures from the blog, and Sherlock chuckled, running a hand through his curls. "Yes, I didn't know about it until later, but John was just learning to cook back then, and he started the blog as a side hobby."

"You are looking at that meal pretty intensely, Sherlock." Diane joked, referring to the stir-fry dish on the screen.

Sherlock sighed. "John isn't at home as much lately since he's so busy with school. I miss his cooking."

"It looks like you miss more than just his cooking." The screen flashed up a shot of Sherlock looking down at John, his gaze fond.

Sherlock gave an unapologetic shrug. "John's kisses are like his Kung Pao chicken. Enough heat to make you sit up and take notice, leaving your lips tingling afterwards, and you hungering for more."

Diana smiled widely at the comment. "Well, I think we'll end things there. This has been 'The Author's Nook', talking with best-selling mystery novelist Sherlock Holmes about his latest book 'Shadow of Doubt', coming out October 1st!"

The audience cheered wildly, accompanied by some whistling and hooting.

Sherlock stood, giving Diane the normal show biz hug.

"That was great, Sherlock." The host gave him a warm smile. "You were so much more open this time than your previous interviews with me."

Hazel joined them, shaking Diane's hand. "That was wonderful, you two." She drew Sherlock away, back to the green room to change and wash off the stage make-up.

"That segment went on forever." Sherlock groaned, taking a long swig of water. "I ended up talking about John way too much."

Hazel shook her head. "No, you totally sold that he is your live-in boyfriend. You sounded proud of his accomplishments, his cooking. People like seeing your human side."

Sherlock closed the green room door. "Maybe too human. Did I really compare his kisses to Kung Pao chicken?" He made a disgusted sound as he stripped down to his underwear, washed his face, and slipped on jeans and a t-shirt. He had been around Hazel enough years to feel unselfconscious around her.

Hazel had her tablet out. "Oh yeah. It's already a meme!"

Shaking his head, Sherlock packed up his stuff into a duffle bag and grabbed a new water bottle. "I'll be so glad when promotion for this book is over, and I can have my quiet life back."

They were soon buckled into her car. "You don't think it will be weird around the flat without John there? You've been spending time with him daily for months."

"He's hardly home when I am anymore. I'm ready to be on my own again." Sherlock said firmly, looking out over the river as they went over a bridge.

Hazel made a non-committal sound. "Hmmm we'll see."

XXX

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

John rolled his eyes when he saw a few photographers outside the school, obviously waiting for him. Ever since that TV interview aired, they had been a hot topic. The clip of Sherlock talking about Kung Pao chicken had gone viral, much to Hazel's delight.

He had bugged Sherlock mercilessly about it, but soon had his own clip all over the web.

They had been leaving a restaurant when a reporter with a video camera approached them. Sherlock greeted him in a friendly way, and answered a couple questions.

"What did you have for dinner, Sherlock?" The reporter asked. "Was it as good as John's cooking?"

Sherlock grinned. "I had some Icelandic sole with dill butter. It was delicious, but can't compare with John's cooking. The first time I tried his Hollandaise, I wanted to propose on the spot."

John scoffed. "Yeah, to the sauce! You were enjoying it so much, I thought I should leave the room, let you two to be alone!"

He waved at the photographers. Hazel had told him to acknowledge them that way, and answer any questions politely, while making a quick escape. No comments about Sherlock today.

It was a relief to get on the tube and find a seat. His feet ached from being on them all week. His hands and shoulders ached from chopping vegetables, perfecting his knife skills. He just wanted to do nothing tonight.

Unfortunately, Sherlock had a charity gala he was attending, and John had to be his plus-one. Sherlock had promised that they would leave early, knowing how tired John was lately.

Pulling out his phone, he looked over his messages. There was one from Matthew Rogers, who John hadn't heard from for a while. He scanned it quickly, and the last paragraph made him catch his breath.

 **Seeing the recent comments from Sherlock online reminded me of our conversation in New York. I looked at your blog more thoroughly and I think it could make a great cookbook. You already have so many followers there, it would likely sell well. Give me a call so we can discuss it, OK?**

A cookbook? A real published cookbook of recipes he had made his own? It was a fascinating, exciting idea. Since the mention of the blog in that interview, his followers had grown by thousands, with more everyday.

He was so taken with the idea, he almost missed his stop.

XXX

"Earth to John, come in, John..." Sherlock nudged his shoulder, as the car slowed near the event. The red carpet was already full of journalists and minor celebrities.

Jerking himself out of his cookbook thoughts, John sent Sherlock an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I'm a bit distracted today."

"Some big news?" Sherlock looked handsome as ever, his grey suit following his lean frame lovingly.

It was too early to say anything. He wanted a chance to talk to Matthew, see what ideas he had, before he discussed it with anyone. He didn't want to get too excited yet, until he knew more. "I was approached with a possible business opportunity. I need to find out more before I'll talk about it."

"Not even with your fiancé?" Sherlock joked. Ever since the Hollandaise comment had gone viral, Sherlock had teased John with that word.

Rolling his eyes, John sat up and made sure his suit jacket was sitting straight. "Not even him."

They got out of the car, and right away, John felt everyone's attention switch to them. Compared to that first movie premiere, when they had mostly been ignored, this was the complete opposite. And everyone wanted their picture together, as a couple.

John had been to events like this enough by now that he just stayed at Sherlock's side, a pleasant expression on his face at all times. Smart phone cameras were everywhere.

Sherlock never let John get far away, always holding his hand or wrapping an arm around his waist. John smiled at him and for the cameras, trying to act like this was all normal.

"Sherlock, why have you come to this event tonight?" One of the reporters asked, a woman with red hair swept up into a dramatic updo.

Sherlock gave her a sincere smile. "Maureen, I have been supporting National AIDS Trust events for decades. Tonight, we get to see a great performance of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream', in the Globe theatre, in the middle of summer. What could be better?"

After a few more pleasantries, they moved on.

A reporter from Winq magazine was there. "Sherlock, you used to be much more private in your relationships, but we are seeing you everywhere with John lately. What's changed?"

"We have come forward so far with LGBTQ rights in recent years that we sometimes forget that being gay is illegal still in 75 countries. We need to be public with our views, support people around the world with their struggles." Sherlock answered, polished but still from the heart.

The reporter looked at John. "John Watson, you are dating Sherlock Holmes openly. Would you label yourself a 'gay' man?"

"Well, I think I'd say I was 'pansexual', since I'm spending more time in my cooking course than with Sherlock lately." John sent Sherlock a laughing glance.

Sherlock laughed back. "The other night I found him looking at a website rather intensely. Turns out he was drooling over a set of copper pots and pans."

"They were so gorgeous..." John moaned.

"See, look what I have to compete with?" Sherlock commented to the reporter.

As they walked on, Sherlock squeezed his hand lightly. "You are getting better and better at handling reporters."

"Thanks." John felt pleased at the compliment.

"Do you really consider yourself 'pansexual', or were you just making a joke?" Sherlock asked softly.

John was surprised he asked. It didn't really make a difference with their agreement, after all. "Um, yes, pansexual is the label I prefer, but I use bisexual around some people." Sometimes, he was around people he knew wouldn't really understand the terms, and using 'bisexual' was easier.

They found their seats, and John snuggled against Sherlock. After all these outings, they knew the most comfortable positions, how they fit together. In a few more weeks, all this would be over and John was determined to enjoy it while it lasted.

During the show, he liked hearing Sherlock chuckle at Bottom's antics with the fairy queen. He could feel the vibrations against his chest, and loved the deep sound. It always sent sparks of awareness through John.

After intermission, Sherlock pulled John even closer for the second half. His arm over John's shoulders felt warm and comforting, and John wanted to turn into it. Curl against Sherlock and kiss his way up his neck. His cologne smelled amazing, and John just wanted to nuzzle in, breathe it in. If this was a real date, he would be touching Sherlock teasingly, getting him hot and bothered so the minute the play ended, they would leave to get home, get to bed.

Unfortunately, it wasn't a real date, so they went to the after party. Drinks were flowing as the wealthy mingled. A jazz band was playing and some people were dancing.

The MC of the event stepped on stage, thanking everyone for coming, and announcing how much money they had already raised for the charity.

"And now, for our feature speaker of the night, best-selling author Sherlock Holmes." The MC was encouraging everyone to clap, as Sherlock walked up the stage steps.

John was stunned. He had no idea Sherlock would be speaking tonight. Was he so distracted by the cookbook that he had missed hints that this was happening?

"Thank you everyone. Thank you for supporting the National AIDS Trust tonight."

Sherlock paused, looking around the room, easily pulling focus with his charisma. "I have been a longtime supporter of this cause. Something has happened in the last year that made me value its work even more. I'd like to share a personal story now with you.

"When I was fifteen, I fell in love for the first time. He was a tall boy with light brown hair. Victor Trevor." Sherlock smiled at the memory. "We were both students at Eton, and spent every moment we could together.

John was shocked at the words. Shocked that Sherlock was opening up about such a personal thing in front of a crowded charity event.

"Rather abruptly, his family had to move to another country for his father's work. We cried and cried, promising to love each other forever. Promising to keep in touch. Promising that we would go to same university. If we had to be apart, at least it wouldn't be for long." Sherlock said softly, his eyes distant.

"I never heard from him again. Never saw him again. I wrote him letter after letter, and got no response." Sherlock said flatly. "After a few months, I had to get over it, keep in going. But I never let in anyone else that far, always keeping people at a distance, keeping myself safe from being hurt again like that. My trust in people had been severely shaken.

John felt so bad for his friend, that he had to go through that at such an impressionable age.

"My main character in my books is a lot like me. Cold and removed from the messiness of emotions. He is practically a robot, reviewing the crime scenes, picking up small details, being rude to most people." His cool green eyes scanned the room, taking in how quiet the crowd was, listening to him intensely.

"Everything changed last summer. I got a box in the mail." Sherlock made the motion of something about shoebox size. "It was full of letters from Victor, all addressed to me."

John could hear how close Sherlock was to losing it, even if the rest of the people couldn't. They didn't know him as well, and John was almost tempted to go stand beside Sherlock, support him. Instead, he nodded at him, giving him an encouraging smile.

Sherlock's eyes dropped to the podium, and he was still and quiet. It was almost a minute before he looked up again, collected again. "It turned out that Victor's mother had found out about us, and didn't approve of having a gay son. They moved the family to be away from me, and to have him around 'better people'. He learned that being gay was abhorrent. He was forced to be in the closet, to act straight and date girls.

"It was the early 1990's, and the AIDS epidemic was killing more and more people with no apparent cure. When Victor had a secret boyfriend, they didn't know to use a condom. He caught the disease at 19. He fought it hard for 4 years, and died at 23 years old." Sherlock paused, taking out a handkerchief to dab his eyes. More than one person in the audience did the same.

"Victor's sister was clearing out his parent's house, after they had passed. She found that box," Sherlock made the motion again, his hands trembling.

He had to take another moment. When he was ready again to speak, he raised his chin high, defiantly. "Those letters made it clear his parents had lied to him, had never given him the letters I had mailed after they moved. They had been ashamed of him. When he got sick, they were even more ashamed, and hid him away. He lived his last years hidden away. Writing me letters still, letters that were never mailed.

"The content of those letters is incredibly personal, and knowing that this amazing man died so young of this horrible disease makes me angry." Sherlock clutched the podium with both hands. "We need to get rid of the stigma around HIV/AIDS and educate everyone. Prevent the spread. Treat the sick. Please donate generously to make this happen."

The applause was thunderous.

Sherlock was surrounded as he came down from the stage, people thanking him for his honest, touching story.

Eventually John came to his side, seeing Sherlock was physically and emotionally drained. "Let's go home."

In the car, he held Sherlock tight, even though there was nobody around to see them. No one to perform for.

XXX

"So, you really think this will work?" John's eyes were wide, reeling with the possibilities.

Matthew nodded on the Skype channel. "If you can get Sherlock's permission to use his post-it note comments, that is ideal, of course. If not, we can find a way around it. Legal here will help."

"I'll ask him and get back to you. Thanks Matthew. I think this could really be something." John said, his voice still shaking a bit. He felt overwhelmed by it all.

They signed off and John sat there for a minute. Letting it all sink in.

Finally, he just got up to go into the kitchen to grab a couple beers. He went out onto the large balcony with the view of Hyde Park. Sherlock was on a lounge chair, in the shade, wearing sunglasses. He appeared to be napping, but John knew he was in one of his deep thinking periods, sorting things out in his head.

It was tempting to just sink down onto a chair nearby and take this chance to stare at him. Put on his own sunglasses and just take him in. Ever since that speech, John felt incredibly drawn to Sherlock. He had been so emotionally raw, so exposed, that night. Shockingly brave.

What had Sherlock gone thorough, going through all those letters from his first love? It must have been a tidal wave of emotions, dealing with all that. Had he had a friend or two to talk with? Had he gone to therapy? He admitted to being emotionally closed off for years, and being changed by the letters.

No wonder Sherlock couldn't write Roarke as a character anymore. He no longer identified with him. It made John want to read the new book so much, to look for the clues that Sherlock had changed, see how his new character thought and acted.

Shaking himself out of his musing, he nudged the author. "Sherlock." John said in a normal voice, not wanting to startle him.

There was no reaction.

Reaching down, John took off Sherlock's sunglasses. His eyes were closed.

"Sherlock." John called his name a bit more urgently.

The other man stirred then, and his eyes opened, instantly focusing on John. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

John had to catch his breath, Sherlock looked so good he was seriously tempted to just kiss him. What's the worst that could happen? Sherlock wouldn't be interested and would turn away? He had kissed John once. That one time. Surely that gave John a free pass to kiss him one time, didn't it?

"Um...ah...something has come up, something important, that I need to talk with you about." John pulled the other lounge chair closer, sitting upright on the edge, looking down at Sherlock reclining on the other one.

Sherlock swallowed hard and seemed to tense up, his eyes scanning over John quickly. "Oh, you've met someone. Someone you want to date. And you can't unless we 'break-up'." Sherlock said quickly. "Is it a man or a woman? Do I even want to know?"

The words came at John really fast, so fast it took him a minute to process it all and shake his head impatiently. "No, no, nothing like that. Where do you get these ideas? I have met someone, but in a business sense."

Sherlock looked like he was going to jump in with another bunch of half-baked deductions.

John held up his hands. "Let me continue, Sherlock." He gave the berk a warning glare to make sure he stayed quiet. "Someone wants to publish a cookbook based on my blog." There. He said it. And somehow saying it aloud sent a zing of excitement through John. Made it real.

"Publish your blog?" Sherlock tilted his head slightly, like he was trying to picture it.

John sighed. "You know there are such things as cookbooks, right?" He doubted Sherlock had ever looked at one.

Sherlock gave him a put-upon sigh. "Yes, of course."

"Well, with your permission, I want the cookbook to include the pictures I made of your post-it note reviews. 'Spicy, but yummy'. That kind of thing." John felt his stomach clench, waiting for Sherlock's reply. The cookbook was doable without the messages, but it was a nice hook. Something original.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I can't see that being a problem. Let's check with Hazel."

Before John could say anything, Sherlock had her up on Skype on his tablet and had explained the concept.

"I think it's fabulous! Maybe we could cross-market the two books together even." Hazel enthused, her mind whirling in a hundred directions. "Did Matthew say when they wanted it out?"

John felt his excitement growing. Was this really happening? "It's healthy eating, so he wants it for January at the latest. Get all the people who going back to the gym on January 1st."

"You will be excellent on talk shows, talking about your journey the last year. From invalidated soldier to professional cook, losing two stone along the way." Hazel gushed. "So, do you need an agent?"

"You'd be interested?" John grinned happily at the older woman. Sure, she was nuts at times, but she had great ideas. Great connections.

Hazel nodded slowly. "Of course, darling. You know I love you."

Sherlock cleared his throat pointedly.

Giggling, Hazel stuck her tongue out at him. "And Sherlock loves you too. Gotta jet, but I'll call you tomorrow to hammer things out." She logged out of Skype a second later.

John leaned back in the lounger, his head spinning. "A book deal. A book deal. Is this real?"

Sherlock grinned at his friend indulgently. "It feels amazing, doesn't it?"

"Like I could jump off your balcony and fly." John looked off into the clear blue sky.

"We should celebrate." He thought for a moment. "I know, how about you make a fantastic supper, pulling out all the stops. I'll pop over to the wine shop and pick up some champagne while you cook."

John scoffed. "I do hours of work and somehow it's a celebration of my success?"

Sherlock gave a playful look back. "Did I mention that I would buy really expensive champagne?"

Getting up, John just shook his head and pulled out his phone. "I'm going to make a few calls. Back in a few."

XXX

Sherlock followed John down the stairs from a back alley entrance, the thump of music was already making everything seem to pulse with life. John seemed to know where he was headed.

The place was crowded, but they wove through the people to a back corner of the strange aqua blue painted space, and there was a small cheer. People were jumping up to hug John, and smile at him, clearly happy with his news. Everyone squashed over in the seatee, making room for John to be on the end.

John waved to a low stool nearby. "You can sit on that."

Looking closer at it, Sherlock saw that below the seat of the stool, the base was a garden style gnome for some reason. A quick glance confirmed these odd stools were all over the bar. With a shrug, he sunk down onto it.

John nudged Sherlock. "Meet my sister, Harry."

A slim blonde in her early forties leaned around John with an outstretched hand to shake Sherlock's. "I've heard a lot about you. Good to finally meet."

Sherlock smiled in return. So, John had been talking about him with his sister? Interesting.

John leaned close to be heard over the music. "Beside Harry is her girlfriend, Clara, a couple old army buddies, Mike and Alex, and their girlfriends. Hazel might pop by later."

It was a friendly group, all in a good mood, and the alcohol was flowing freely. Sherlock noticed Harry was sticking to a bottle of Perrier.

It had been ages since Sherlock had been in a gay club, and he watched the crowd, bemused, at all the young people flirting and checking each other out. It was a friendly atmosphere, probably helped by the quirky decor with Barbie and Ken dolls glued to the ceiling, mismatched wallpaper with odd designs like cowboys and indians, and disco balls flickering light everywhere. The music was a mix of classic disco and 1980s hits.

Harry and Clara were soon yanking John over to the dance floor. Sherlock chatted with Mike, who turned out to be an army doctor who was now in private practice. He was easy to talk to, and had even read some of Sherlock's books.

Hazel arrived an hour later with a tray of tequila shooters, making the group instantly love her. John and the girls followed her back from the dance floor.

"Here's to John, our newest author!" She held her glass high, and everyone toasted John before tossing back the shot.

John passed out the next round. "Here's to Sherlock, who had higher standards of cooking than beans on toast!"

Harry wasn't doing the shots, but she gamely held up her mineral water. "Here's to my awesome little brother! I'm so happy to have him back in London."

John gave her a hug, clearly starting to feel the effects now.

A song came on that had Harry yanking John to his feet, and Clara followed them to the dance floor.

Hazel stood too, pulling Sherlock reluctantly along. "You are his boyfriend, and he's celebrating. Go dance with him."

Sherlock nodded and moved in closer. The dance area was pretty full, so Sherlock copied the other couples, stepping right behind John and putting his hands on his hips. He felt John tense up a little, but relaxed again when he realized who it was.

Hazel winked at him from where she was dancing. It was a fun group, everyone a bit drunk and dancing with abandon.

 _You can't sleep, you can't eat_  
 _There's no doubt, you're in deep_  
 _Your throat is tight, you can't breathe_  
 _Another kiss is all you need_

The words sunk in, and Sherlock completely agreed with them.

XXX

John moved to the loud pulsing music, feeling it down to his bones. He hadn't been to this club for ages. He used to come with Harry when they were younger, drinking and dancing, flirting with people in the club. With his mates, he tended to go to straight clubs, looking for women.

Things were a lot more relaxed here. John could dance in a goofy way that he'd never get away with in a straight club. He hammed it up with the women, lip syncing to the lyrics, having fun.

Having Sherlock join them on the dance floor was a complete surprise, until he saw Hazel winking at them. She had obviously put Sherlock up to it, telling him he should dance with his 'boyfriend'. It was expected for their roles.

It irked John for a few seconds, but he was in too good a mood to dwell on it. The tequila helped too. Plus, having Sherlock's large hands cupping his hips and having their bodies nudging together on the crowded dance floor was delicious.

Feeling a bit daring, John pushed back a little, deliberately rubbing his ass against Sherlock. He felt Sherlock's hands tighten on his hips, and it sent a pulse of pure arousal straight through him. So he did it again.

"John..." Sherlock's voice had a warning tone, so close to his ear.

Maybe he would regret it later, but John turned around, looking up at Sherlock. He looked good, in just a white button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and dark pants.

 _He owes me one..._ John wrapped a hand around the back of Sherlock's neck, and kissed him hard. His friends all cheered wildly, hooting and clapping.

Sherlock looked a bit stunned when John pulled back, his eyes flicking down to his lips and then back up again.

This time, it was Sherlock yanking John closer, the kiss even hotter and longer.

"Get a room!" Some guy nearby called out.

John chuckled, hugging Sherlock to keep upright. He wasn't sure if his knees were wobbly from the tequila or the kisses. "Want to get out of here?"

Sherlock's eyes widened at the question. "What about your friends?"

John glanced at Mike and Alex, smiling at him from their seats, and then at the women they were dancing with, grinning at the way John was hanging off of Sherlock. "It's fine. Let's go."

Grabbing Sherlock's hand, he went through the crowd and up the stairs. Outside, there was a line of cabs, and they went into the first one.

Sherlock barely told the driver their address before John was straddling him.

XXX

-A/N: Boys behaving badly... ;)

-National AIDS Trust (NAT): This UK organization formed in 1987 to champion the rights of people living with HIV and campaign for change. NAT organized the first ever 'Women, AIDS & the Future' conference, attended by Princess Diana, in 1990. In 1995, NAT launched the 'Companies Act!' initiative to promote good practice on HIV and employment. This grew into the Global Business Coalition on AIDS which now has more than 200 members including Coca Cola and Shell. In 2012, HIV treatment is made available without charge to everyone living in England who needs it, following a seven-year campaign by NAT.

-Globe Theatre: William Shakespeare's plays were often performed in the original Globe Theatre, on the south bank of the Thames. Wikipedia: "The original theatre was built in 1599, destroyed by fire in 1613, rebuilt in 1614, and then demolished in 1644. The modern Globe Theatre reconstruction is an academic approximation based on available evidence of the 1599 and 1614 buildings. It is considered quite realistic, though contemporary safety requirements mean that it accommodates only 1400 spectators compared to the original theatre's 3000." While attending an all boys' boarding school, Benedict made his acting debut at the age of 12 as Titania, Queen of the Faires, in 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'.

-Winq Magazine: A quarterly U.K. luxury lifestyle magazine aimed at gay men, launched in 2014. It features exclusive political, current affairs, lifestyle and fashion content. The summer 2017 issue of Winq has cover story about Andrew Scott (Moriarty) discussing his "electrifying take on Hamlet, Ireland's extraordinary transformation, and exploring his own inner darkness."

-Victor Trevor: A little different take on this character. (Ignoring The Final Problem episode from Series 4). If he was born in 1976, he would have caught HIV in 1995, and died in 1999. The drugs were not as effective then as they are now.

-HIV/AIDS: It was first clinically diagnosed in 1981 in the US, and by 1982, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) were calling it AIDS. The disease was not well understood and greatly feared in the late 1980's and early 1990's. In 1987, the British government sent out a leaflet to every household in the country, 'AIDS: Don't Die of Ignorance' and had a terrifying TV advert about it, with the astonishing voice-over from the actor John Hurt, which began, "There is now a dreadful disease...". There weren't many effective treatments at the time, so condom use was stressed, and by 1988, rates of some sexually transmitted infections (like gonorrhoea) had dropped more than 50% from 1985 rates, showing more people were practicing safer sex.  
Some American Stats: By 1984, there were over 3,000 diagnosed cases, and 1,292 people had died. By 1995, it was the leading cause of death for adults 25-44 years old. About 50,000 Americans had died of AIDS-related causes. Death has declined as multi-drug therapy became available, from 38,780 in 1996 to 14,499 in 2000.  
In 2016, about 36.7 million people worldwide are living with HIV, and it resulted in 1 million deaths. Most of those infected live in sub-Saharan Africa. Between it's discovery and 2014, AIDS has caused an estimated 39 million deaths worldwide.

-Gay Bar: They go to 'The Friendly Society', which 'offers bizarre decor, cheesy disco music, a friendly welcome to LGBT customers and a great night out' according to websites.

-Song: Robert Palmer's 1986 hit song 'Addicted to Love.


	9. Chapter 9

John woke up, looking around the strange bedroom in confusion. A second later, the night before came back to him.

The dancing. The tequila. The dancing with Sherlock. Hands. Kissing. Kissing in the back of the cab. Kissing in the bedroom. This bedroom. Images flashed in his memory like a strobe light, and John rubbed his eyes.

Turning his head slowly, John peaked across the bed. Sherlock was sprawled out, the sheet covering half of his chest. His skin was pale, tempting John to push the sheet down further to see more of it in the soft morning light. There was a bite mark on his long neck, and another flash of memory reminded John on how it got there.

 _Oh shit..._

Easing out of the bed, John gathered up his scattered clothing and escaped to the bathroom. He freshened up the best he could and pulled his clothes on. Checking his phone, he groaned. There was a Skype call with Matthew scheduled in five minutes.

Grabbing juice and a big bottle of water from the fridge, John headed outside to the balcony for privacy.

"Hi Matthew." John said when the call came through.

Matthew chuckled, taking in John's messy appearance. "Hi John. Did you have a late night?"

More memory flashes come, of waking during the night to eager hands and urgent kisses. No wonder he was so tired.

"Um, yeah...just some celebrating with friends and a bit too much tequila." John took a long sip of water, tilting his chin up to drink from the bottle.

Matthew let out a long whistle. "Wow! That's quite the love bite on your neck."

Clamping a hand to the sore area, John shifted in his chair. "Um...So, is the contract done now?" Time to get to the meat of the deal.

Matthew nodded, looking pleased. "I'll email a copy to you and your agent for review. Basically, you had mentioned you are done school at the end of September, and we think we can work with that. We are pushing for a January release since it's a healthy food book and people are all following their New Year's resolutions still. We'll do a tour, getting you talking about the blog, and cooking with TV hosts."

"Can we really get it done that fast?" John asked.

"Yes. It's the advantage of working with a smaller publisher. We want to strike while the iron's hot and you are in the media so much right now with Sherlock." Matthew explained.

It made sense. "So, when do I need to have the completed manuscript to you?"

Matthew glanced down at his calendar. "We are aiming for the end of November. Your recipes are mostly ready to publish, they just need polishing. You need to select which ones will be in the book, test and tweak the recipes, and have professional photos done for each one. We will edit as you work through them."

John thought about it. Two months to work on the recipes, get the book together. It was doable. "I think that sounds good."

Matthew nodded his head. "We need you in New York to work with our team. We have a suite we will rent here for you. It has a huge professional grade kitchen and the second bedroom we can set up as a photography studio, perfect lighting."

"New York? Hmmm...". That would work well. John wouldn't have to find a place to stay when his cooking course was completed, just going to New York for two months and focusing on the book.

"Is Sherlock going to mind you being away that long?" Matthew asked.

John almost laughed at that, but remembered that Matthew thought their relationship was real. "Oh, we hardly see each other living together now. I'm in school all day, and he does research with the Yard most nights. I doubt Sherlock will even notice I'm gone."

It might be for the best. John could go away for work, and their media presence would fade without their frequent 'dates'. Hazel could do a press release eventually that they broke up, if needed. Just working apart too much, or something like that.

"OK, consider your calendar booked up for October, November and January. We may also need you occasionally in December for working with our marketing team." Matthew said, looking satisfied.

John nodded. "I'll get the signed contract back to you once we have reviewed it. Thanks for everything, Matthew."

They signed off, and John sat back, looking out over London as he sipped his juice. It had been an incredible year. He started a new job, learned how to cook, lost weight, started a blog, went to cooking school, and now had a publishing contract. When Harry had pushed him into the assistant job, who would have ever thought it would become all this? An exciting career with so many possibilities?

He would be busy with the book until the end of January. If it sold well, he could look at doing other books in a series, building on it. Maybe have a book of Italian recipes, or one of Cajun food... He got excited with dozens of ideas.

If the book didn't take off, he had his cooking skills to fall back on and could get a job as a live-in cook, or look at working in a restaurant or with a caterer. He knew enough from his classes to want to try that.

And Sherlock? John sighed. How was he feeling about last night? Did it just happen because of the alcohol? He never would have been so impulsive, hauling Sherlock back here, without it. Sherlock wouldn't have agreed either. Or maybe they were just caught up in the fake boyfriends role. No doubt, things had gone too far, and Sherlock was probably regretting it.

He would try to apologize and keep busy with school. Only a few more weeks and he'd be done, and in New York. They could keep their distance until then, except for the agreed upon public appearances, their 'dates'. He could fake being a happy couple a few hours a week. Go back to just being friends the rest of the time. Try not to run last night over and over in his head.

Heading back inside, he saw Sherlock at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and reading the paper like normal. He looked great, his hair messy, only his robe on, his upper chest and that long neck with its red mark on display. John wanted to come up behind him, tilt his head back for a hot kiss, straddle his lap for some more, kiss down his neck and taste his skin. Refresh his fuzzy memories...

 _OK, get this over with._

"Hey...". John aimed for a nonchalant tone. WHat should one say the morning after sleeping with a friend? He went to the counter and poured coffee, made toast, on autopilot.

He could feel Sherlock's gaze on him, likely detecting dozens of things. John tried not to stiffen up, tried to act normal.

Taking his breakfast to the table, John kept his expression neutral. He sat down, and grabbed a section of the paper, reading as he ate. The toast felt too dry in his mouth, and he needed a sip of coffee to get it down.

He could feel Sherlock's glances, but acted like he didn't. Acted normal, like last night hadn't happened. Like it was just an intense dream that somehow resulted in them both having some marks and bruises. Should he just say sorry?

Finally, Sherlock let out a long sigh. "So, you are going to New York at the end of the month?"

John looked up at Sherlock in shock. How did he know that? John had only found that out from Matthew's call this morning. With a sinking feeling, John realized Sherlock must have overheard his conversation with Matthew. The kitchen window was open, and the balcony not very far from it. Had he said much about Sherlock? John struggled to recall it all.

"Um, yeah...it looks like I'll be busy with it until the end of January." John finally said, to answer Sherlock.

Sherlock wasn't giving anything away with his expression either. Was he relieved John would be leaving soon? Would it be awkward being around each other until then? Did he think John wanted more from him, and would be clingy?

He got up, taking his dishes to the sink. "I'll be deep into writing the next book by then."

John smiled, thinking of the house in LA. He missed that quiet, peaceful place. "The King, back in his castle on the top of the hill."

"Banging out the next best-seller." Sherlock sounded unenthused as he rinsed the dishes.

"I think you will be more excited once the new book comes out, and you see the public going ga-ga over it." John smiled. Even successful writers like Sherlock had their moments of self-doubt in their work, and needed support.

Sherlock leaned against the doorway. "I might go back to writing Roarke. It's easier, not having to deal with all those emotions."

Was that a dig at John? "Look, Sherlock, about last night.. " John ran a hand through his hair, searching for the right words.

"Forget about it, John. It was just one night, and we had both been drinking a bit too much..." Sherlock waved a dismissive hand.

John felt relieved, but also a bit disappointed for some reason. "Um, OK. If you are alright with things."

Sherlock sighed, pushing off the wall. "What other way would I be?" With that cryptic comment, he left, ambling back to his bedroom.

XXX

John stirred the noodles one last time, and took the pan off the heat, draining it.

Setting out the meal, he had a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Shaking his head, he pushed the feelings away. _Hold it together._

"Sherlock, supper is ready." John called out towards the living room. One of the few advantages of sharing the smaller flat was that Sherlock was never too far away. Or was that a disadvantage?

Sherlock entered the kitchen, dressed in a dark grey shirt with black trousers, looking quite delicious.

John motioned for him to sit down. "Since it's my last night, I wanted to make you a special meal as a thank you."

With a sigh, the taller man plunked down. "John, we had a deal. You helped me out too, coming to all those events with me. I'm sure you were tired or bored most of the time."

Joining him at the table, John passed Sherlock the bread basket. "Well, most of them were fine, and helping you out a few hours a week for three months is hardly equivalent to the £15,000 you paid for my schooling."

"Are you saying you want to pay me back the money? Set up regular payments amortized over ten years?" Sherlock smirked, spreading garlic butter over a slice of crusty bread.

John smirked back. "No, I just wanted to point out that I got the better side of the deal, sucker." He stuck his tongue out for good measure.

Sherlock gave a shrug, grabbing the wine and pouring them each a glass. "Well, judging by this meal, I'd say you learned your lessons well, and it was worth every pound." He held up his glass. "To John Hamish Watson and his cooking career. Already a book deal, who knows what's next."

With a clink of their glasses, they took a sip. John held his up again. "And here's to your book release. I'm sure everyone will be raving over it."

Sherlock arched an eyebrow. "Well, here's hoping." He clinked their glass again and took a sip. He dug into his meal, letting out a deep moan with the first bite. "Oh John, this is fantastic."

John smiled, pleased, but also shifted a little in his chair. That moan was downright carnal, and reminded John of that night he was still trying to forget. "Um...thanks. Beef Bourguignon."

He was pleased with how it had turned out. The beef was tender and flavourful, the mushrooms and carrots tasty, and the red wine sauce thick enough to coat the egg noodles well.

"Do you need a ride to the airport tomorrow?" Sherlock asked, taking another bite.

John shook his head. "No, the publisher arranged for a ride for me."

Sherlock seemed impressed. "Posh."

"I think they just want me ready to get to work as soon as possible. They want the book done by the end of November, or earlier." John still though it was too fast.

"Leave it to them to work all that out." Sherlock said, finishing his meal. He sat back, cupping his wine glass. "What should we say about us? People may comment that we aren't living together anymore."

John had just assumed they would let it fade. "Do you really think they will notice?"

Sherlock scoffed. "I'm scheduled for interviews for three weeks. Radio, TV, internet bloggers. You don't think Hollandaise or Kung Pao will come up?"

Taking a big sip of wine, John wasn't sure what to say. "Well, it depends if we want to continue the illusion of our relationship or not for a while. Is it better to announce we broke up, or for us to say we are apart for a while for work?"

Scoffing lightly, Sherlock didn't look pleased with either idea. "You don't know when you be back in London."

"And won't you be busy with the book tour, and writing in LA after Christmas?"

"It's probably better to be officially single, I suppose." Sherlock drawled, looking unimpressed with the idea.

John stiffened, thinking of Sherlock being 'available' again. On the market. Would he get other people to attend events with? Would John be seeing pictures of him kissing someone else at movie premieres?

"Um...well, if we continue the fake relationship, it would take the pressure of having to get dates for events. Convenient having a 'boyfriend' far away." It was a test. Did Sherlock want to be available again? Go on real dates? Had he been having discreet hook-ups the whole time? Sherlock could certainly get dates any time he wanted.

"Would that make us bi-coastal?" Sherlock smirked.

John felt relieved Sherlock seemed to go with the idea. "Well, it would when you are in LA, and if I'm in New York. Bi-squared. Bi-coastal and bi-sexual."

"That's awful. But aren't you pansexual, attracted to anything remotely humanoid?"

"At least I stick to living things. You almost proposed to Hollandaise. And I've seen what you are like around my cherry trifle. It's indecent."

"Brandy soaked cherries, whip cream, chunks of cake and dark chocolate...mmmmm..." His low moan and closed eyes made John's pants distinctly tighter.

"We are getting off topic. If we are continuing the fake relationship, we need to know how to label it."

"Personal chef contractually obligated to provide trifle bi-monthly? Arm candy? Sugar daddy? Drunken fuck buddies?" Sherlock rattled off, so fast John had a hard time catching it all.

John felt a bit stunned at the casual mention of their hook-up. They hadn't talked about it again, and John thought Sherlock regretted it. Wanted to avoid bringing it up. To do so in this joking context...? What did that mean?

Swallowing hard, John tried to act normal. "Um...I'm older than you and you are the rich one, so Sugar Daddy doesn't seem to fit. And I'm hardly your Arm Candy, with the way I look. Trifle bi-monthly? Nice try."

Sherlock shrugged with a playful smirk. He looked gorgeous like that, his eyes seeming a darker green in this light.

John got up, feeling the tension between them. Things had been even worse since the night at the bar. He really should just tell Sherlock that the whole fake boyfriends thing wasn't working. Just go back to being friends.

He took the dessert from the fridge and carried it over to the table with their coffee. "On a purely non-contractual basis, I did happen to make you Cherry Trifle. Just because I know how much you like it."

Sherlock gave him a genuine smile. "Thanks, John. For the dessert and this whole delicious dinner. I'll miss your cooking...but I'll really miss you too."

John felt pleased at the comment. "I'll miss you too, Sherlock. We have seen each other practically every day for the last nine months."

"I don't make friends easily, John. I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-round obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet." Sherlock said after a sip of coffee, watching John dishing out the trifle.

John grinned as he passed a plate to Sherlock. "Yes, that is true."

Sherlock gave him a warm look back. "But I hope I can count you amongst my short list of friends, John."

"Of course, Sherlock. I consider you a good friend." He almost said best friend, but held back. "We need to text often and see each other when we are in the same city. Hazel will always know where I am."

Sherlock nodded, eating his dessert.

The reality of what was happening was really sinking in now. Tomorrow, John would be in New York, busy working on the cookbook. He would see Matthew, who he didn't know well. Otherwise, all alone in the big city. Away from everything familiar, yet again. It happened in the army as well, moving to a different country and adapting to the changes, people in his unit coming and going over the years. He really didn't have anything that stable in his life. Even Harry, his only family left, wasn't the most reliable person.

Sherlock had been a steady, constant thing anchoring his life while John worked things out. He gave John the safety and stability he needed to venture out and try new things. He always worked hard, showing that even a successful person had to push himself to maintain his position. Plus, he was too smart to be idle long, craving new information.

John found he couldn't eat more than a few bites of his dessert.

Sherlock was looking him over closely, and John knew he was trying to read him. "John, don't be nervous about this new phase in your life. It seems big and overwhelming, but just take it day-by-day, working hard like you always do, and it will work out."

"What if the publisher doesn't like my final version of the book? What if it doesn't sell at all? What if I suck at promoting it?" John didn't know that much about the publishing industry yet.

Sherlock gave an impatient huff. "They wouldn't have offered the book deal if they didn't like your take on things. It will sell. It's a good concept and tasty recipes. And we already have seen that you are good with reporters at my events. You are charming and always look good."

The words seemed sincere, and warmed John. "Charming and look good?" John joked back, smiling widely.

Sherlock's gaze fell to John's mouth, staying there a little too long.

John's breath caught in his throat. He wanted to kiss Sherlock so badly. Did he want it too?

Sherlock's mobile buzzed loudly, making them both jump, breaking the moment. Impatiently, Sherlock poked at it. "It's Hazel."

"Hey boys, how's it going?" Hazel asked, looking happy.

"Just relaxing, having some stew." John looked at his friend and agent fondly.

"So, did you discuss it yet?" Hazel asked, looking pensive.

Sherlock looked at John, with the long pause. "Good news there. We are going long distance."

Hazel danced around, holding her tablet like it was her dance partner. "Yes! This is great news."

John chuckled at her. "I don't know how this is going to work. We're gonna be on separate continents."

"It'll be fine John. Just mention each other once in a while to the media and then maybe be seen together at Christmas. People will buy it." Hazel settled down, breathing hard from jumping around.

Christmas? That was months away. John hadn't even thought that far in advance. Would he be in New York? London? With Harry?

"We can think all about that later." Sherlock said dismissively.

Hazel shook her head. "No, Sherlock. You have to know what your boyfriend is up to. People will ask you about it on the book tour."

"My wonderful, fabulous sapiosexual boyfriend is currently working on a cookbook in New York that will be released in January. So, buy my book now and buy his then." Sherlock gave a wide fake smile bigger than a used car salesman's.

"Perfect, darling!" Hazel cooed. "I'll be arriving in a couple days and we can polish everything up before your first appearances."

"Sapiosexual?" John said, mostly to himself.

Sherlock snuck him a small grin. "It means you are attracted by intelligence before appearance."

John almost choked on his coffee. Did Sherlock somehow think a boyfriend would only like him for his brains, and not his looks? Didn't he notice how many men and women flirted shamelessly with him? That his fans had tumblr pages devoted to pictures of him? Those ever-changing eyes, that pale skin, that ass?

"I don't just like you for your brain." John mumbled, as Hazel babbled on about Sherlock's book tour.

That got Sherlock turning his head to give John an inquisitive stare. "Oh really? And are you speaking as yourself, or is this a projection into your fake boyfriend role, and what he would say about me?"

Hazel stopped talking, looking between John and Sherlock on her screen. "Oh no. Are you two about to have a domestic? I should probably leave." She was joking, trying to lighten the mood.

Sherlock turned back to the screen. "Hazel, it's John's last night here. I'll talk to you tomorrow." And without another word, he disconnected from Skype.

"Sherlock, that was a bit abrupt..." John looked from the phone to his friend.

Turning to face John fully, Sherlock's eyes were taking in everything, but waiting for an answer.

John took in a big breath, letting it out slowly. His heart was thumping. Was this it? His chance to say everything? Confess his feelings? What were his feelings?

"My boyfriend is perfect. He thinks I just like him for his brain, and truly doesn't understand how gorgeous he is. He makes me laugh and has a big heart. I miss him already." John acted like he was talking to a reporter.

Sherlock thought he was joking, and rolled his eyes. "You even said all that with a straight face!"

The tension between them broke at that, and they talked far into the night. John was glad he had already packed, because he didn't get much sleep. Just wanted to be with Sherlock as much as he could be he left. He could sleep on the plane.

XXX

-Disclaimer: I own nothing

-A/N: Thanks to everyone for continuing to read & support this fic. The boys are a bit oblivious about each other's feelings and their own. They will figure things out eventually... I think there will be 3-4 more chapters.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Text**

John sat back in the club chair, his tired feet up on an ottoman, and watched the photographers hard at work.

Jessica changed the tablecloth to a red one, setting down the platter of chicken tacos on top of it, flicking her thick braid back over her shoulder. Even John could see the cloth brought out the colors of the red and yellow peppers, making the dish look more appealing.

She glanced over at her boyfriend, Marcus, and he got the message that things were in place. He repositioned the camera on the tripod, capturing images of the meal from many angles. The lighting in the room was a soft, non-glaring white.

They worked together seamlessly, and John never tired of watching them in action. Jessica wore skinny jeans paired with black boots and a turquoise bohemian style blouse. Marcus had beat-up Doc Martens, a black hoodie and a t-shirt of an old band.

It had become a bit of a game between Marcus and John each time he came to the flat for a photography session. The younger man would take off his coat, and John would see what vintage band shirt he was wearing.

 _"I could have been someone...,"_ John had sang to Marcus today with a smirk.

Marcus laughed back, his dark eyes glinting. _"Well, so could anyone. You took my dreams from me, when I first found you."_ He finished off the next few lines of the song. "Shit! I will stump you before we are done this project."

John had only shook his head. "That's from the 80's. Were you two even born then?" He doubted they were out of their twenties yet.

Rubbing a hand along his perfectly trimmed beard, Marcus shrugged. "Nope." He popped the 'p' at the end.

The sound reminded John of Sherlock, and he felt a pang, missing him suddenly.

The click of the camera brought John out of his memories. He grinned at Jessica, holding her Nikon. They both took candid shots of John around the apartment, things that might end up in the promotional materials, or the book.

"You had such a sweet expression on your face. Thinking about your boyfriend?"

John shook his head. "No, I've been too busy cooking and working with you to think about him. Plus, he's busy on his book tour."

Jessica's expression was a little skeptical, but she put Marcus' phone on the docking station and picked the Pogues song to blast as they arranged the photo shoot.

 _"You're a bum, you're a punk"_

 _"You're an old slut on junk, lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed"_

 _"You scumbag, you maggot, you cheap lousy faggot..."_

Hearing Jessica and Marcus singing the lines back and forth to each other as he went into the kitchen, John felt the pang again. He missed bantering with Sherlock, subtly insulting each other, a warm look softening the words.

Why was this hitting him so much today? He had been in New York a month now, working hard and ahead of schedule on the recipes to test. It had been interesting to revisit his old amateur meals, using his training to make them better, tastier.

As he perfected a few, he scheduled Jessica and Marcus to come by to do a photo shoot, working together a few hours each week. They had become friends, joking around together. He had been impressed with the proofs he had seen so far of their work.

His phone binged, and he glanced at it to see that Jessica had emailed him a picture. Opening it up, it was the one she had just taken of him, leaning against the chair, lost in his thoughts.

It was a shock seeing himself like that, wearing his white chef jacket that Sherlock had given him when he finished his courses. His hair was still in the tousled cut he had gotten with Wanda before the first New York trip. He looked tired, but happy. A scraggy dark blond beard had grown in the last month, and he hadn't bothered shaving it. It was still a jarring that he seemed slim and young looking in the picture, such a difference from how he was last year.

He heard the music being turned off in the studio, and knew Jessica and Marcus were done for the day. He hummed the Pogues song as he went to check on them.

"Damn, you got that song stuck in my head now, and it's a Christmas song. It's way too early for that." John grabbed the plate of food, cleaning up.

Jessica laughed. "Yeah, especially on Halloween!"

John realized she was right. He hadn't considered that it was October 31st, working so much. "You Yanks are really into that celebration, aren't you? It's not that big in England."

Marcus moved to stand beside John. "Really? It's our favorite holiday. And New York has so many cool parades and parties for it."

Giving John an appraising look, Jessica was soon smirking. "I have the perfect costume for you, John. You should come out with us tonight."

"What? Me?" John shook his head. "Nah, I'm too old for all that stuff."

Marcus nudged him with his shoulder. "Bullshit. You have been working your ass off and deserve some fun. You are here, and you really should experience what Halloween is like firsthand. Give you some stories to tell everyone back home."

John looked between the two photographers, and could see they sincerely wanted him to join them. He had been working long days, not getting a chance to explore the city at all. One night off wouldn't hurt anything.

"What the Fuck. OK. Show me what Halloween is all about." John said impulsively.

XXX

John watched as their corpse bride server set a tray down on their table. She set out three glass goblets, and poured a shot of lime green alcohol into each. Resting an unusual silver spoon over a glass, she placed a sugar cube on the flat portion of the utensil. Taking a small carafe, she poured cold water over the sugar slowly, the water flowing down through holes in the spoon into the goblet. When the glass was full, she stirred it, the colour diluted to an opaque, faint green.

Marcus and Jessica held up their glasses to John.

"To a night of wicked fun." Jessica smiled widely.

John looked at his new friends, still marveling over their costumes. The pair obviously had taken some time on them, although after being to their apartment, he thought they likely already had most of the pieces. Their closet was stuffed with flamboyant clothing, further proof of their artistic nature.

Marcus was wearing a double gun belt, black cargo pants with black boots. On top, he wore a medium blue t-shirt and a maroon leather jacket. A Walkman was clipped to his belt, with the headphones resting at the base of his neck.

Jessica had done even more, wearing a light green leotard with full-length sleeves. Over that, she wore skintight black pants, black boots, and a black fitted sleevless top. Her long black wig had red ombré tips, and the skin of her neck and face matched the green of the leotard perfectly.

They had already had many people smile at the attractive couple on the way there, often requesting selfies with them.

John was wearing one of Marcus' old costumes, dressed as a steampunk. It was pretty comfortable, just his own black jeans, a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a dark coloured vest with a subtle paisley print, an indigo ascot around his neck and a black top hat.

Marcus had expertly trimmed down John's beard to a short length. Steampunk goggles were around the brim of his hat, and round, wire-rimmed sunglasses were hanging from a button on his vest. An old-fashioned pistol hung from a low riding gun belt on his left hip. The accessories were what pulled the whole look together.

John shrugged and clinked his glass against their's, and downed the cloudy, light green liquid. It had a strange flavor, bitter and herbal, with a slight anise tone.

Chuckling at John's unimpressed expression, Marcus clapped him on the shoulder. "So, what do you think of the absinthe? See any green fairies yet?"

Looking pointedly across the table at Jessica, John laughed. "Add some wings on to Gamora here, and maybe..."

A few drinks later, they were stumbling into the ballroom. The building, with its high ceilings, colossal cobwebbed chandeliers, and opulent French Renaissance balconies, impressed John. A live jazz band was playing energetically, and the dance floor was already packed with costumed partygoers. It was loud, chaotic and wonderful.

John took turns dancing with Jessica and watching the crowd, enjoying seeing all the costumes. He felt pleasantly buzzed.

Marcus and Jessica joined him, arms wrapped around each other's waists, and John envied their easy familiarity with each other. They were a good couple, sharing laughs as well as some intense looks.

"Now, it is time for our Costume Contest. Please come up here to enter and we will narrow it down to the top ten." A MC dressed as Beetlejuice said on stage, wearing a boldly striped black and white suit and a scraggly green wig.

People surrounding them immediately turned and encouraged Marcus and Jessica to go up. They looked pleased, and started to move through the tight crowd to the stage steps. As Jessica passed by John, she grasped his wrist with a firm hand. "You're coming with us."

John had no choice but to laugh and try not to trip as she yanked him along. _What the Hell._ He didn't know anyone here, and he had no idea if he would ever be in the States for Halloween again. Might as well have fun with this. It could have been the absinthe clouding his judgment as well.

On the stage, bright lights shone on them, and John slipped on his round sunglasses to be able to see better. The space was crowded with many entrants.

Beetlejuice went up to each person, looking over their costume and making comments into his microphone for the crowd. "Ahhh...," he said, seeing Marcus and Jessica. He motioned them forward. "Star Lord and Gamora from one of my favorite movies. You two look great!"

After working through everyone, he narrowed down the choices based on how loudly the crowd cheered for each person. John was drunk enough to ham it up, planting his feet wide apart and drawing his pistol quickly, and then tipping his hat up slightly with the weapon. Maybe he was acting more like a cowboy than a steampunk, but the crowd ate it up. John was shocked that he made the cut, along with his friends.

"There are some great costumes up here. Luckily, we will leave choosing the winners to our special guest judge, best-selling mystery author, Sherlock Holmes!" Beetlejuice motioned to the side of the stage, and the tall, slim man came up the stairs, the spotlight on him, as the audience welcomed him with enthusiastic applause.

John couldn't believe it, and Jessica shot him a smirking glance. Had she known he would be here? Was that why she pulled him onstage? His mind was reeling. He was glad he was wearing the sunglasses now.

Maybe Sherlock wouldn't recognize him. He had no reason to think John would be at this Halloween ball. He had never seen John dressed up like this, never seen him with a beard. John tried to take comfort in that as Sherlock worked his way across the stage, examining each participant thoroughly.

John was able to look Sherlock over as he worked. He was in a Victorian style suit; black pinstriped trousers, a burgundy waistcoat, elaborately tied cravat at his neck, and a black suit jacket. His dark curls were styled back from his face, and most shockingly, his eyes were ringed with bold, smoky black make-up. It contrasted beautifully with his pale skin, and made his aqua green eyes look even more incredible. John was sure Hazel had pushed Sherlock into wearing the costume and having a make-up artist work on him, getting into the spirit of the event.

He grinned in recognition at Marcus and Jessica's costumes. She pulled a funko pop figurine out of Marcus' jacket pocket, holding it up for Sherlock.

"I am Groot." Sherlock said into the microphone he was holding, his voice as deep as he could make it, getting a big laugh from the audience.

John took a deep breath when Sherlock stepped in front of him, his heart thumping hard in his chest. Surely his costume was enough to hide his identity from those observant eyes? It seemed to take forever for Sherlock to look him over thoroughly.

He let out his breath when Sherlock moved along, showing no sign of recognition, finishing his review of everyone.

"What do you think, Sherlock? Who should get our three prizes?" Beetlejuice asked.

Sherlock smiled at the crowd, seeming like a natural in front of everyone. He was used to speaking publicly. "It's hard to choose, but there is someone not eligible."

With a couple steps, he was back in front of John, yanking off his sunglasses. Before John could do much more than gape at him in surprise, Sherlock yanked him forward, right into his arms, and kissed him dramatically. Rearing back in shock, John's top hat fell off, and the people nearby scrambled to catch it. The crowd was cheering wildly as Sherlock continued the deep, hard kiss. John clutched his shoulders, and felt dizzy as he kissed him back. When Sherlock finally let John go, his hand found his, giving it a warm squeeze.

"Wow! Well, I never expected that!" Beetlejuice exclaimed, getting the crowd to laugh and cheer again. "So, this is..."

Sherlock shot John a warm look, and raised their joined hands. "This is my boyfriend, John, and I had no idea he would be here tonight."

The crowd loved that.

"So, he was testing to see if you could see through disguises as well as the hero of your books. I'd say you proved you can!" Beetlejuice laughed, and then looked at John. "I'm sorry. Sleeping with the judge has disqualified you. Please leave the stage."

John hammed it up again, still buzzing from that incredible kiss and being around Sherlock. He slumped his shoulders dramatically, and shuffled off the stage. As he walked into the crowd, many people patted his shoulder in support.

The contest continued, but John couldn't do anything but watch Sherlock. How was he here? Had he planned to let John know he was in New York?

Questions filled his thoughts, as he sipped another drink. Sherlock had been on his book tour in England, the US, and even in Canada. Hazel had him doing radio interviews, TV chat shows, as well as signing events for his fans organized by bookstores. They were both exhausted by their work the last month, and hardly had exchanged more than a handful of texts.

Those few seconds with Sherlock had made John realize how much he missed just being around Sherlock. Below the fake relationship, there was a true friendship, built on spending time together every day for nine months. Living together in LA and London, sharing the hotel suite in New York. Going to yoga classes and film premieres.

Suddenly, Sherlock was standing beside John, a small grin playing around his lips. "You are here with Gamora?"

John nodded. "She and Star Lord are my photographers. You should meet them properly."

"Later..." Sherlock said, taking John's hand again and leading him out of the ballroom, where it was quieter.

The lobby was decorated just as theatrically, flickering candlelight making many dark corners.

Maybe Sherlock wanted to talk. John could only feel his hand on his own, and drew Sherlock into a dark space. Pushing him firmly against the wall, John kissed him. A kiss for just the two of them. Away from prying eyes and ubiquitous mobile phone cameras. Took his time to kiss Sherlock right, showing without words how much he had missed him.

By the time he backed up a step, Sherlock's eyes were as intense on his own. When he tugged John towards the exit, it sent a thrill through him. Minutes later, they were in the back of a yellow cab, rushing to Sherlock's hotel.

John woke to an empty bed, and stretched as he rolled over on to his back. As he became more alert, he remembered Sherlock kissing him goodbye, the room still dark in the early morning hours, leaving to catch a flight to the next stop on the tour.

Grabbing his phone from the bedside table, he glanced at the time. He had a couple hours until check out. After setting an alarm to go off in an hour, he relaxed back into the luxurious covers.

 _Hmmmm….so that had happened… again…_ Images from the night before flashed through his memory. Heated kisses, groping hands. Unbuttoning vests and shirts and trousers. Beautiful pale naked skin that needed to be explored with hands and soft kisses. Intense and perfect.

John sighed. OK, the sex was great. But what did it mean? Were they just friends with benefits, having hot sex when they happened to be in the same city? Or was John just a convenient night of fun for Sherlock, when he was a little drunk and horny? Were they real boyfriends now, or still fake boyfriends? Pretending to have a romantic connection when they were actually only friends who had sex occasionally? On national holidays and for major celebrations?

 _Hmmm…maybe he could get Sherlock to be in New York for Thanksgiving. Help him celebrate…_

Rolling onto his side, John looked out the window at the skyscrapers. They had said they were friends. They had both taken the initiative, kissing each other in public places. Sherlock at the movie premiere after party, John at the gay bar, Sherlock on the stage last night, John in the lobby. That meant it was Sherlock's turn next, didn't it? John found himself googling when American Thanksgiving was on his phone before he could think twice.

Setting the phone back down, John took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Could this be more? Be… it? What if this was more than just sex? More?

Sherlock lived half the year in Los Angeles, and the other half in London. John liked both homes, and could imagine being happy living with Sherlock again in either. Sherlock had his work. Could John find work that fit that lifestyle? It was hard to imagine having a job working in a restaurant or catering company in England, and only being with Sherlock for half of the year. Trying to have a long-distance relationship seemed like a recipe for disaster.

Maybe the cookbook would sell well, and he could do more. Then he would be more flexible, working on them wherever they were.

It was crazy even thinking about this when he had no idea when he'd be seeing Sherlock next. Was he even interested in having a real relationship with anybody? Was he still dealing with his feelings over Victor?

John sighed. He would be in New York until the end of November, and likely part of December, working with the publisher's marketing department. There was a friend from culinary school who messaged him, saying if he wanted any work in London in December, he could use his help with some catering jobs for Christmas parties. Between all that, and spending time with Harry at Christmas, would he be able to see Sherlock?

January was busy as well, going on his first book tour. He wasn't sure what to expect yet, the idea of it both exciting and terrifying.

Snoozing a little, John woke to his alarm going off. He had a quick shower, and was glad that his costume looked pretty normal without the accessories as he went back to his apartment. He carried the top hat with the goggles, gun belt, ascot and sunglasses tucked inside.

XXX

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: More sexy times...

-The Pogues: They are an Irish punk band that formed in 1982. The song in the fic is 'The Fairytale of New York', released 1987, featuring Kirsty MacColl. Wikipedia: 'In the UK, it is the most-played Christmas song of the 21st century. "Fairytale of New York" has been cited as the best Christmas song of all time in various television, radio and magazine related polls in the UK and Ireland.' I think it's a pretty hilarious choice for x-mas song, with the characters calling each other 'faggot' and 'old slut on junk'. (Still f*cking love it, though).

-Absinthe: This lime green spirit started as a medical elixir and in 1797 the first absinthe distillery in Switzerland opened, followed by one in France in 1805. It was thought to have hallucinogenic effects, opening the mind and creativity, so was very popular with writers and artists like Vincent Van Gogh, Ernest Hemingway, Oscar Wilde, Toulouse-Latrec and Pablo Picasso. It is historically call ' _la fée verte_ ' (the green fairy).

It is an anise-flavoured spirit derived from botanicals, including the flowers and leaves of _Artemisia absinthium_ ("grand wormwood"), together with green anise, sweet fennel, and other medicinal and culinary herbs. As it is highly alcoholic (45-74% ABV) and bitter tasting, it is served by diluting it with cold water, which is poured slowly over a sugar cube suspended over the glass with a special perforated 'absinthe spoon'. In some places, the sugar cube is dipped in the alcohol and ignited on the spoon, burning with a beautiful blue flame due to the high alcohol content and caramelizing the sugar slightly, before the water is added.  
Absinthe was banned in many countries by 1915, thought to contain a dangerous hallucinogen. One critic claimed: "Absinthe makes you crazy and criminal, provokes epilepsy and tuberculosis, and has killed thousands of French people. It makes a ferocious beast of man, a martyr of woman, and a degenerate of the infant, it disorganizes and ruins the family and menaces the future of the country." The bad reputation was likely encouraged by the Temperance movement that was active in many countries at that time. Absinthe had a revival in the 1990s, when studies showed the claims of psychoactive ingredients (besides alcohol) were greatly exaggerated.

-Costumes: Marcus is dressed as Peter Quill (Star Lord) and Jessica as Gamora from Guardians of the Galaxy.

-PhantasmaGorey: The Haunted Ballroom: This annual spectacular Halloween party in New York is held in The Grand Prospect Hall. It has been the meeting place for the wealthy, weird and infamous since 1892, and home to secret societies from the Odd Fellows and Masons to the Knights of Pythias. It is even said to be 'the grounds where Al Capone earned the nickname Scarface after being slashed with a knife in a heated row'. The dress code is strictly 'haunt couture', and live jazz is played by the Ghost Train Orchestra. For an extra charge, you can get access to the intimate, hidden Absinthe Parlor, a former speakeasy in Prohibition times, and enjoy a glass of the green fairy served using a traditional absinthe fountain, spoon, and Pontarlier glass.

-Mind palace: Sherlock's memory method comes from a mnemonic device from Ancient Greece and Rome, using visualizations for memory enhancement. It is 'method of loci', 'loci' being Latin for 'places', since it uses the power of spatial memory. It is also called mind palace, memory journey, or memory palace.  
The items to be remembered in this mnemonic system are mentally associated with specific physical locations. To remember the items in sequence, the person can imagine walking a certain route through the location, and forming an image of the items in various spots along that route. This method has been used by a World Memory champion to memorize 1040 random digits in a half hour. Gary Shang used the method to memorize the number pi to 65,536 digits long.  
I could say this note is to help explain how Sherlock identified John in the costume contest (he probably has a whole wing of his palace devoted to John), but it's really just to help red_elle with her knowledge organization systems studying. ;) (red_elle, maybe try the method using Appledore or 221B Baker St while you study). I found it interesting to learn more about the method of loci and will try it out.


	11. Chapter 11

John wondered how the hell he had gotten here, as he dug into his Christmas dinner. At least the turkey had turned out well, very flavourful and moist.

"Mmmm this is delicious, John. I may have to have you help me every year." Mrs. Holmes smiled his way from her end of the elegant dining table. She was an attractive woman in her mid-seventies, with salt and pepper hair in a bob. Sherlock definitely got his amazing eyes from her.

Mr. Holmes raised his wine glass at the other end of the table. "I concur. Let us toast the chefs!" He was also in his seventies, with a full head of silver-white hair.

John nodded towards Mrs. Holmes, and took a sip of wine. It was a good vintage.

"I have never seen you eat so enthusiastically, Sherlock." Mycroft drawled from across the table. John was still working out the dynamic between the two brothers, both so intelligent and successful in their own ways.

Sherlock's plate was heaped with generous portions of everything, and he had been eating with an occasional pleased hum of contentment. He glanced at his brother, his green eyes scanning over him in a way John recognized by now.

"And you have gained 6 pounds and are trying to reduce again." A quick look at Mycroft's plate showed only small portions of turkey and vegetables, none of the potatoes and Yorkshire pudding that everyone else was enjoying.

Mycroft stiffened, pulling himself up defensively, looking down his nose at his brother. "I will lose those pounds soon enough. Be careful, brother mine. If you keep eating like that, you will be joining me on a stricter regime."

"I've been existing for months on cheap take-away. Of course I'm eating well today. It's the first food I've had of John's in months." Sherlock shrugged, and sent an appreciative nod John's way. "Great job on the stuffing. Are there dried apricots and almonds in it?"

John nodded back, feeling a warm glow of pleasure from Sherlock's compliment. "Yes. Don't worry, there are no pine nuts in it."

One of the funniest pictures on the blog was a small heap of pine nuts on the side of an otherwise empty plate. The blue post-it had a circle with a line diagonal through it, with 'Pine Nuts' written inside. It was from the early months of John's cooking, and he had felt so proud of the pasta tossed with lemon juice, parmesan cheese, rocket, capers, and toasted pine nuts. After that, he usually substituted almonds when a recipe called for them.

They shared a fond look at the shared memory, and John felt a pang of how much he had missed this man. Living together and seeing each other every day for all those months had been so good. It had been hard being apart the last three.

Mycroft must have seen the look. "You have lived together most of the year, and Sherlock couldn't stop talking about you on his last book tour. Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?"

John had been sipping his wine, and almost choked at that comment. He grabbed his cloth napkin, coughing into it, and then excused himself to go to the washroom. Sherlock moved to stand up to help him, but John waved him back into his seat. "I'll be fine. Just need a moment."

After splashing his face with water, and drying it, John looked at himself in the mirror. Had he been mad to agree to this holiday? How would he last a week when it was already like this on the first day?

Sherlock and Hazel had ganged up on him when he had revealed Harry was flying to Morocco with Clara on Christmas Day. Hazel had stressed that there hadn't been many pictures of the two of them together since the Halloween pictures and videos had been posted by fans. Sherlock had made the Holmes country home sound like the idyllic winter getaway. A place to relax after how busy their lives had been lately.

His parents seemed nice, but just one look at his older brother made John sigh. He saw the way Mycroft's eyes scanned him, the cogs and sprockets of his mind whirling, and he was no doubt deducing John's deepest, darkest secrets.

XXX

Mycroft watched John leave, and turned back to his brother. "Sherlock, listen to me..."

Taking a sip of wine, Sherlock set down his glass. "No, it only encourages you."

"I'm concerned about you. You seem to be getting very involved, very fast." Mycroft said condescendingly.

Scoffing, Sherlock shook his head. "Involved? I'm not involved."

"You are the one who invited him for Christmas. You are the one kissing him in public. What would you call it?" The older man argued.

Smirking at his brother, he shrugged. "Subterfuge, mostly."

John entered the room, and sat down.

Mycroft looked between Sherlock and John pointedly. "I've never heard it called that before."

"Enough!" Mrs. Holmes said firmly, glaring at her sons. "Either you behave, or we will get out the kiddie table and you will take turns eating there until you act like adults."

"Me? I'm the one being attacked." Sherlock complained.

XXX

"So, I understand you were working in New York for a few months." Mr. Holmes said mildly to John.

Turning towards the older man, John nodded. "Um...yes. While working with my publisher."

The argument at the other end of the table continued between the brothers, with their mother trying to calm things down.

 _"I'm not angry with you..." Mycroft started._  
 _Sherlock interrupted. "Oh, that's a relief, I was really worried. No... hold on, I really wasn't."_

"Did you get a chance to explore the city much?" Mr. Holmes asked, slicing his turkey.

John was pulled away from the brothers' squabbling. "Um...no, too busy with work, unfortunately."

Mr. Holmes tutted. "One of my favorite places is the Museum of Modern Art. A fantastic collection."

 _"Shut up, and listen when someone with a superior mind is talking. You may learn something," Mycroft sneered._  
 _Sherlock turned to his mother. "Oh, did you say something? I must have missed it."_

"Which artists are your favorites?" John tried to keep a straight face, trying to hold up his side of the conversation, trying to ignore the brothers.

Mr. Holmes leaned towards John. "Post-Impressionists mostly. I find Van Gogh particularly fascinating and MoMA has one of his best pieces, _The Starry Night_."

John nodded, easily remembering the famous painting. "It's in New York? I will have to make time to see it when I'm back there in a few weeks."

 _"If you can't laugh at yourself, I'd be happy to do it for you."_

"Van Gogh painted it about six months after he cut his ear off, while he was staying in an upscale insane asylum. A converted monastery. It was based on the view from his window." The older man set down his cutlery, and dabbed a cloth napkin against his mouth.

 _"Why don't you slip into something more comfortable? Like a coma?"_

Chuckling, John glanced back from the warring brothers to Mr. Holmes. "Amazing that he could concentrate on his work in such an environment."

Mr. Holmes nodded, not seeming to notice the shouting at all. "Van Gogh thought that the painting was a failure, that it was too abstract. He thought he had painted 'stars that are too big'."

 _"I'm not saying you are fat. I'm just saying that if I were to pick the five fattest people I know you'd be three of them."_

John smiled along with the older man, chatting on about other art works, while half-listening to Sherlock and Mycroft. He didn't know what to really expect when he had accepted the invitation to spend the Christmas holidays here, but this loud, chaotic family wasn't it.

The estate was lovely, about an hour's drive from London, an area with small hills and many trees. The house wasn't huge or imposing, just a large stone building packed full of books and artwork.

Sherlock's parents were surprisingly polite and warm, welcoming John enthusiastically. When cooking with Mrs. Holmes, they had chatted easily and he had been impressed with her academic career in mathematics. She was the more intelligent of the two, reining in her sons' behavior when it threatened to get out of hand.

Mr. Holmes had been an art dealer, handling estate pieces, and traveling widely to meet with important clients. Although he downplayed his intelligence, John could see he was passionate about his field, and knew his stuff.

Mycroft was the most similar to Sherlock in his manner. Even though there was a large age gap between them, they had a strong rivalry, sparring back and forth with barbed comments. John hadn't witnessed Sherlock's famed bad behavior much, thinking tales of it were exaggerated, but it was on full display here.

They all moved into the lounge for coffee when supper was over.

"So, how long will you be staying, Sherlock?" Mrs. Holmes asked.

Glancing towards John, he gave a rueful smile. "Well, assuming John doesn't tire of us and beg to leave, for the week. I have an event on New Year's Eve that I need to attend."

"Oh, good. We will have time for a proper visit then. I feel like I've seen you more on TV than in person this year." Mrs. Holmes passed a plate of biscuits around.

Mycroft took a piece of shortcake. "You really did milk that teenage angst a lot in interviews, I thought."

Sherlock glared at his brother. "The deception had a deep impact on me, Mycroft."

Sniffing dismissively, Mycroft sipped his beverage. "Is that sentiment talking?"

"No. It's me."

"Difficult to tell the difference these days." Mycroft drawled. His sharp eyes looked over at John pointedly.

Sherlock jumped up. "John, how about I show you the grounds? It would be nice to get some fresh air. I'm finding things a little stuffy in here."

Trying not to smirk too obviously, John nodded and joined his friend. A break from the family would be most welcome.

"You really should leave him be, Mycroft." Mrs. Holmes admonished her older son as the younger men left the room. "I haven't seen Sherlock this happy for years."

XXX

The night air was cool and crisp, and John was glad to be wearing a thick jumper underneath his winter coat. Still, he shivered slightly when the wind picked up.

Sherlock sent him a concerned glanced. "Is it too cold out here for you?"

John shook his head, looking up at the starry sky as they walked along the fence, and thinking about the dinner conversation about Van Gogh. "I like your parents. They are not really what I expected, but they obviously love you a lot."

"Is Mycroft driving you batty? I know he can be a bit much, with his superior, know-it-all attitude." Sherlock asked.

John chuckled. "No, I have gotten used to being around people like that."

It took Sherlock a minute before he looked at John in horror. "You aren't saying I'm like him! We aren't even remotely similar."

Could he really be so blind? "Look, I get it. I followed Harry around constantly when we were kids, copying everything she said and did. She was my hero. It's what younger siblings do."

"Do you think he was right about the interviews? Did I talk about Victor too much?" Sherlock asked softly, looking towards the waxing moon near the horizon.

John swallowed hard, thinking back on the interviews he had watched from Sherlock's October book tour. "No, I think you spoke well, answering questions quite openly. Your NAT speech was posted online, so obviously the interviewers would be asking you about him."

It had been difficult, at times, watching those more personal, longer interviews. Sherlock talked warmly about his first love, and how heartbroken he had been when it had ended so abruptly with no explanation. He had talked about the letters, and how he had spent months finding out what had happened to Victor after they had parted.

John felt bad for everything Sherlock had gone through, back as a teenager, and in the last year. "How do you feel about Victor now? You read the letters, investigated him, dedicated your book to him."

Sherlock sighed. "I feel I know the truth now, and I had to search until I knew it all, face it all, no matter how much it hurt. Writing the book, he was often in my thoughts. He was why I made the main character gay, even in that time period."

John nodded in understanding. "Hazel warned me that I may get some backlash on the book tour for being out and a former soldier. It doesn't fit old stereotypes, I guess."

"I guess they will be fine with you being a cook though, that fits in with their expectations. Which unit were you in?" Sherlock asked.

"Royal Armoured Corps." John said.

Sherlock's eyebrows rose. "I was wrong in my deduction then. I thought you were in the infantry from your injury. You drove tanks in Afghanistan?"

John chuckled at his expression. "Not that much. The hilly terrain wasn't well suited for Challengers. It was mostly Cougars and Mastiffs there. They are better at withstanding IEDs than armoured Land Rovers."

"And you were driving a convertible Mini Cooper around LA with no complaints?" Sherlock chuckled at the thought.

John smiled. "There was a time or two I took a wrong turn, and would have been happier to be behind a few inches of Pope glass, but I managed OK."

"But Pope glass didn't prevent you from getting shot over there." Sherlock's expression sobered, his eyes going to John's shoulder.

Sherlock had seen and touched John's scar in New York, his eyes curious. He was the first lover to see it, and John had to push himself to relax. To accept it, to feel comfortable with it. He could live with a scar.

John shrugged the shoulder, feeling the small pang of pain that would probably never fully go away. "There was an attack on our base. It was shut down pretty fast, but an errant bullet hit me."

"I'm glad you are away from that dangerous place." Sherlock said.

"Now, we'll see if I can survive a week with your brother." John turned, heading back to the house, and Sherlock followed him.

"Did you bring your gun as I suggested?" Sherlock chuckled.

"I assumed you were joking. Why would I bring my gun to your parents' house for Christmas dinner?" John paused at the back door. "I'm not going to shoot your brother, no matter how annoying he may be."

Sherlock opened the door. "Yes, I suppose that might put a damper on the festivities."

XXX

In the hallway, they removed their coats and scarves. John could hear Mycroft talking with his parents in the living room. "Well, we should go join them."

"Do we have to?" Sherlock moaned, his voice hushed.

Chuckling at the question, John couldn't keep from smirking. It was said that people reverted back into their old childhood roles and routines when they went home for the holidays, but he didn't expect it of aloof, brilliant Sherlock. "Well, I'd frankly rather just hang out with you and catch up. We haven't spent much time together in months."

Sherlock looked pleased at that response, his green eyes gleaming mischievously. "Then that is just what we shall do. Come with me." He crept along the hall, his steps carefully placed to avoid the squeaky floorboards, until he reached a wooden cabinet. He opened the upper doors and took out two whiskey tumblers.

Creeping to stand beside him, John held back from laughing as Sherlock opened the lower doors, and shifted the bottles inside, searching. "Oh wait!" He reached inside, and pulled out a tall dusty bottle with a white label. "Have you ever tried this?"

Sherlock looked it over, and shook his head.

"Great. We will need some sugar cubes and a small carafe for water." John led the way into the kitchen, grabbing a fork from the drawer, and searching for a carafe.

Ten minutes later, they were in Sherlock's bedroom with their booty. "That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever done." John giggled as he set everything up on a table.

"And you invaded Afghanistan." Sherlock shot back, setting down the bottle they had swiped.

John had a hard time pouring the right amount of the lime green liquor into the glasses, he was laughing so hard. "Shut up!" He didn't have an absinthe spoon, but he was able to balance the sugar cube over the glass with the fork as he poured the water over it. He gave the mixture a quick stir, and felt satisfied with the color. He quickly mixed up the second concoction.

"What is that? It looks vile." Sherlock asked, holding his glass up to examine more closely.

Holding up his own glass, John gave a shrug. "Truth serum." He clinked his glass against Sherlock's. "Bottom's up."

The taste wasn't any better than he remembered, but he could tell it was strong. Sinking down onto the large bed, John kicked off his shoes and propped a pillow against the wall to lean against it.

Sherlock sat down beside him, moving a pillow over as well. "We usually don't end up talking that much once we get drinking."

It was true. John turned his head to look at his friend in the low light of the bedroom. He was dressed in a light blue dress shirt, and navy trousers, his hair a bit messy from the wind outside. "Alcohol is also sometimes called Panty Remover."

Sherlock scoffed. "I doubt either of us is wearing panties."

"Well, I know I'm not. I better check if you are." John said impulsively, his hands going to Sherlock's waistband.

But hands quickly pulled his away. "John… stop…"

The words were a surprise. They hadn't seen each other in months, and things had been pretty hot and heavy at Halloween. When Sherlock had suggested this getaway, John had assumed they would be able to pick up where they left off. He had been looking forward to having time to really explore Sherlock.

He pulled back, sitting up straighter. "Oh, I'm sorry… I thought..."

Sherlock sighed, picking up John's hand and stroking his thumb back and forth over his skin. "It's my fault. I thought that might be partially why you accepted this invitation, and it didn't correct your assumption."

"You aren't attracted to me anymore? You don't want to…" John was confused. It contradicted every sign he had been getting from Sherlock since they had driven out from London. There had been that long hug, the lingering looks, the way he held John's hand in the living room in front of his family.

Sherlock shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "Of course, John. But here… with my parents and Mycroft not far away…"

John could see what he was getting at. "You are an adult and you told them I was your boyfriend. Do you think they are uncomfortable with you being gay?"

"No, no, not at all. They are fine with it." Sherlock sighed. "It's completely my own, um, inhibitions."

In a way, John thought it was kind of sweet that Sherlock was shy about sex in his parents' house. But his libido wasn't too impressed by it. He looked around the bedroom, probably unchanged since Sherlock was a teenager. Instead of posters of women or sports heroes, there was a poster of Tesla and a periodic table of the elements. "Did you and Victor ever do anything in here?"

Sherlock seemed surprised at the question, looking downwards and seeming uncomfortable. "No, we were mostly just together at Eton. We were only in here one time."

"And that one time…" John pushed a little, sensing there was more to the story. He had been curious about Victor since the speech at the National AIDS Trust benefit, and had never talked with Sherlock about him.

The question got an eye roll. "Are you really that curious about the fumbling around of some inexperienced gay teens?"

Shifting a little closer, John let his gaze drop to Sherlock's lips. "I'm just trying to understand what the boundaries of your inhibitions are. Can I kiss you?"

He knew the answer before Sherlock uttered it. His breath caught, and his eyes dropped to John's mouth. "Yes."

Somehow it was so much more exciting, more intimate, slowly leaning in and seeing Sherlock's eyes closing. Pressing their lips together, firmly. Sitting in the quiet bedroom, just the two of them. Taking the time to kiss Sherlock, kissing him just to kiss him, knowing this was all they were going to do tonight.

XXX

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: Having fun picturing the Holmes family at Christmas. Poor John! There will be 2 more chapters, so no howling 'when will they fully be together!' Thanks for reading & your kind support.

-Pine nuts: Just a silly reference to the Cumberbitches vs Pine Nuts rivalry (?) of the fans of Benedict and Chris Pine. Fun clip from Graham Norton show if you google Pine Nuts.

-Vincent Van Gogh: (1853-1890). This Dutch post-impressionist painter did over 2,100 paintings in a decade, with 860 of them in the last two years of his life in France. He committed suicide at age of 37, after years of mental illness and poverty. He was not successful in his own lifetime, considered a madman and a failure, but after his death, had widespread critical, commercial and popular success. In 1990, Portrait of Dr. Gachet (1890) sold for $82.5 million (about $150 million today), keeping his work on the list of the 20 most expensive pieces of art.

-Royal Armoured Corps: From the British army website: "The regiments of the Royal Armoured Corps (RAC) form the core of the British Army's Mounted Close Combat (MCC) capability. The 10 Regular and 4 Reserve regiments are descendents of the famous cavalry regiments who rode into battle on horseback and of the Royal Tank Regiment, who manned the very first tanks during the Great War (World War 1)."  
"The RAC soldier combines agility of mind, the ability to operate at pace, self-reliance, loyalty to his crew, coolness under pressure, physical and mental courage, technical expertise and flexibility with exceptional battle-proven equipment and represents modern soldiering at its most exciting."

-Challengers, Cougars, Mastiffs: The main tank used by the Brits currently is Challenger II, a 62 ton tank with a crew of four, used extensively in Iraq. The hills of Afghanistan made the tanks not as effective, so lighter armoured vehicles were used. An IED (improvised explosive device) is a simple bomb that is made and used by someone who is not in the army, often using materials that are not usually used for making bombs. They have been a major challenge in Afghanistan. Mastiffs are a heavily armoured, 6 x six-wheel-drive patrol vehicle which carries eight people, plus two crew, going up to 90 km/hr. (Cougar is similar).

-Pope glass: A special bulletproof glass developed after the 1981 assassination attempt of a Pope. The glass is used in Popemobiles, a vehicle used to move the Catholic Pope through outdoor public appearances safely, keeping him visible to the crowds. The glass is also used for windows of armoured army vehicles.

-Pernod: John grabs an old bottle of Pernod from the liquor cabinet. 68% alcohol by volume, so usually diluted 1 part to 3 parts water.


	12. Chapter 12

John came downstairs in the morning, and found Mycroft and Mr. Holmes eating breakfast in the dining room. He made some toast and poured himself a cup of coffee before joining them.

"Good Morning, John." The older man greeted him, and Mycroft nodded in acknowledgment. "My wife is doing her morning walk."

Glancing out the window, he could see it was bright and clear. "I may go on one later."

"Sherlock mentioned that your book will be coming out next week, so you will be going on a promotional tour." Mr. Holmes pushed his empty plate away and poured himself some more tea.

John felt the familiar pang of nerves at what he would be doing soon. "Um, yes. London, a couple cities in Canada, and many in the US. I'll be done by the end of January."

It was exciting. Many people who had followed him from the start of his blog said they were going to attend his book signings. He would be happy if at least a dozen people came to each event. People often promised to show up to events, intended to, but he wasn't that optimistic about them all actually coming out.

"Good for you. What are your plans afterwards?" Mr. Holmes asked.

Afterwards? "Oh, I haven't really thought about it, frankly. I've been so focused on getting the book done, and preparing for the tour."

Mycroft was silently watching him over the rim of his coffee cup.

"Well, Sherlock will be writing in LA, so will you stay there again?" The older man seemed perfectly comfortable with Sherlock being in a relationship with John. Only his brother seemed to be questioning it.

John took a big sip of coffee, stalling for time. "Um, yes, perhaps. But I'm still trying to establish a new career so I have to go where the work is…" It was true, but it was also probably good to plant the seeds in Sherlock's parents' minds that the relationship wouldn't last. The fake relationship had to end sometime.

"Good morning. I see the assassins have failed." Sherlock said to his brother, as he sat down with a mug of coffee.

Mycroft gave a smug smile. "John has just been filling us in on his future plans."

"Toppling the empires of Gordon Ramsay, Bobby Flay and Jamie Oliver by this time next year?" Sherlock quipped, with a joking glance John's direction.

John rolled his eyes. "Graveyard shift at the King's Cross McDonald's."

"You can always go back to being Sherlock's assistant if the chef thing doesn't work out." Mycroft interjected. "He will no doubt be working on the follow-up to his gay bodice-ripper masquerading as the Maltese Falcon."

Sherlock glared at his brother. "How many spoonfuls of Bitch did you stir into your coffee this morning?"

"You don't have to like me. I'm your brother, not a Facebook status." Mycroft shot back, and then sighed. "I am just wondering if you will ever use your intelligence for something worthwhile."

Standing up, Sherlock sighed. "I'm not going to spy for you, Mycroft. Stop asking." He walked over to the kitchen to make some toast.

John looked at Mycroft in surprise. Was he actually part of the secret service? The man pulled out his phone, scrolling through some texts and typing quickly. He just seemed like a dull middle-aged man in a well-tailored suit.

Sherlock sat down with his breakfast, and Mycroft shot him an annoyed look. "Don't you know it's rude to just leave like that when I was talking to you?"

"You were boring me to death and my survival instincts kicked in." Sherlock snipped, taking a big bite of toast.

Mycroft stood, pocketing his phone. "Well, you won't have to be in danger any longer. Work has called me back to London."

"Oh, that is too bad." Mr. Holmes glanced up from his sudoku book. "Can you at least stay for lunch? Your mother will be back by then."

Giving his father a small shake of his head, Mycroft pushed his chair in. "Afraid not. Would you please give her my regrets?"

His goodbyes to Sherlock and John were quick, and he was soon gone.

John let out a sigh of relief. Although it had been interesting to meet Sherlock's brother, it would be much more relaxing to have the rest of the stay with just Sherlock and his parents.

XXX

 *****FOUR DAYS LATER*****

 _"Salaam a eleikum."_ Harry said, sing-songing over the line.

"Um...hello?" John grinned at his sister's happy voice.

She huffed. "No, you reply _'Eleikum a salaam'._ It means, 'Peace be with you' and 'And also with you'."

" _'Eleikum a salaam'._ " John repeated with a grin. "OK, enough Arabic lessons! How is your trip going?"

There was a long pause, and Harry took a deep breath. "I'm Engaged!"

John grinned widely, and wished the internet connection had been good enough to allow for a Skype call. "With who?" Perhaps John was reverting to his little brother persona as well, bugging his big sister.

Harry huffed. "You know very well who, you wanker. Just like if you said the same thing to me, I'd know who you'd be jewelry shopping with."

Something tightened in John's chest with that, almost like a hard punch. He felt momentarily breathless. Speechless.

"John? John? Have we lost our connection?"

John swallowed. "Um, no...I'm here. So, tell me about the engagement. When, where, who..."

"Well, you know we did that three day tour into the desert. It was on our second night, deep in the Sahara. They grilled us a fantastic meal, and we sat on rugs with pillows eating it as the sun went down. Then we laid back and watched the stars coming out, one by one. There was live music and drumming. And then we were in this gorgeous tent." Harry gushed, speaking so fast.

Hearing his sister sounding so happy was the greatest thing, and he would always love Clara for complementing Harry so well. She was a calming presence to Harry's flightiness. "Can you tell me more, or is it too personal?"

"I had secretly bought Clara a ring she loved in the souq, and I was so nervous. We were kissing, and I was telling her how much I loved her, and she pushed a little carved box into my hand. I was so shocked! We ended up opening up the ring boxes at the same time. It was such a blur." Harry was breathless from telling the long story, and her excitement.

John laughed. "You two are so in sync."

They chatted on, talking about the other fabulous things she had seen on the trip.

"How is your English countryside Christmas?" Harry asked.

John sighed. "Relaxing. Sleeping in, going for long walks, reading by the fire, eating good food." _Making out with Sherlock, but only the first night._ "It's been a good break."

"You needed that! You've been working so hard. Do you feel ready for the book tour?" Harry asked.

The question caused a familiar tension, and John tried relaxing, breathing through it. "I don't know. On the good side, I've been around media so often with Sherlock that I know what to expect. But I've never been the main focus. I have been re-watching videos from Sherlock's interviews, seeing how he handled questions, and can only hope I answer half as well."

"Well, I think you will do great. You have Hazel to help you with it all. You have said she's experienced and will give you honest feedback as you go. And Sherlock, of course. Is he going on the tour with you?"

The question stymied John for a few moments. "Ah, no...he is flying off the LA right after New Years. He sticks pretty religiously to his writing schedule. He's busy until the end of June, or the book is done, whichever comes first."

The idea of Sherlock supporting John on his first tour hadn't even occurred to either of them.

"Oh. Well, I guess I'll see you when we get back." Harry replied, winding up the call.

John nodded. "Yes, yes. I want to take you two out to celebrate! See all your pictures. And your rings."

They rang off soon after.

XXX

' _Wait a minute, I'm going to kiss you.'_

' _No, he'll only think that we'd –'_

' _What I want him to think.'_

John watched the black and white classic movie, as couple kissed passionately. An older man soon interrupted them. His wife tried to say her former lover had been drinking, and she couldn't keep the kiss from happening.

' _For what it's worth, as an apology, your wife is telling the truth. I knew her before you, loved her before you, but I wasn't as lucky as you.'_

"I just adore Ingrid Bergman. She was so classy and beautiful." Mrs. Holmes sighed.

Mr. Holmes shot her a warm look, and reached over to take her hand in his, before they both turned their attention back to the movie.

John shifted a little of the sofa beside Sherlock, feeling a little unsettled. He found it hard to concentrate on the movie. Was it just nerves from the book release and promotion in a couple days? Was it something from Harry's phone call?

It had been a good week overall, lots of time to relax, sleep in, and read in front of the fire. He was a bit glad they were leaving tomorrow though. He was ready to be back in London.

Sherlock took his hand in his, giving it a little squeeze. His eyes were concerned, silently asking if John was OK.

Nodding back automatically, John felt his breath catch. He looked down for a few seconds, feeling confused. A quick glance at Sherlock showed he was back to watching the movie. John looked over to the older couple in the other sofa, and his eyes settled on their clasped hands.

His stomach dropped, leaving a feeling of dread. A small feeling of unease that John couldn't ignore. As he thought hard, he realized Sherlock's motion had mirrored his parents, just then. Thinking back the last few days, there were other actions like that, Sherlock had done this a few other times, following their example.

Was it all just an act? Sherlock seeing his parents doing casual touches and thinking he better do similar ones with John to keep up the façade? They had been friends when all this started, and had gotten comfortable with each other last summer, holding hands and casual touches that were part of their regular 'couple' behavior in public. They had only done it when they were out on 'dates'.

Was Sherlock holding John's hand to just keep up the act in front of his parents? Acting like a good boyfriend? Was that why he had invited John to spend the week here? Because it's what a good boyfriend would do?

What about the times they were alone? Long walks, talking about everything, joking around? Was that just being friends?

John must have stiffened up, because Sherlock was looking at him again.

"Um, I'm feeling a little tired after that long walk. You stay and finish the movie." John said as he got up, not meeting Sherlock's eyes. He bade the older couple goodnight and made his escape.

He was happy to have his own bedroom now, changing into pajamas and slipping under the covers even though it was early.

The bedroom was dark, and he stared out of the window at the moonlit trees, swaying with the cool winds. His thoughts were miles away though, reviewing all their interactions, all the way back to that first meeting. Sherlock, his cool eyes scanning over John quickly, seeing everything. Detached and businesslike, the successful author just wanting a peaceful atmosphere for his work. Strange to think how that was how they had interacted for months, strangers practically, only discussing business and Sherlock's schedule.

It was easy to tell that it all changed with the New York trip, and they came back as friends. Every day after that, they got to know each other better and better. John probably would have left LA at the end of June as Sherlock's friend, if it hadn't been for that paparazzi picture outside the yoga studio. They had gone on dozens of fake dates after that, and John would be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed spending all that time with Sherlock.

So many times, Sherlock would take his hand and tug him along. Pose together for photographs, his arm slung around John's waist. Looking at John warmly as they answered a few questions. It gradually felt normal.

Rolling onto his other side, John let a frustrated huff. Everyone had believed their lie. Believed they were a couple. The worst thing was that John had started to believe it as well.

What was real? What was an act? John was too confused by his own feelings to know anymore.

No wonder Sherlock had kept his distance from John this week. Were those other nights just rare exceptions, nights were his inhibitions were more relaxed by alcohol, and he allowed more to happen? Had he regretted it afterwards? He certainly hadn't been interested in pursuing sex this week. After the first night, John hadn't tried to kiss Sherlock again. He didn't want to push Sherlock to give more than he wanted to. It was telling that Sherlock hadn't even initiated any kisses the whole trip.

It had been a good week, acting like a couple in front of Sherlock's parents. But it had continued into the times they were alone as well. They spent evenings curled up on the sofa by the fire, reading, and stayed that way even after his parents went up to bed. John had relished the closeness. Sherlock was a good companion.

Harry's announcement had been jarring. His alcoholic sister had gotten her act together, was working a steady job, and now had a fiancée. Could John have all that too? A steady job and a serious relationship? Things had been so unstable in the last couple years, and didn't look any more stable in the future. He could hardly even see Sherlock now, could hardly keep the façade of a fake relationship with how little they were seeing each other.

Sighing, John rolled onto his back, and took a few deep breaths. Tomorrow was New Year's Eve. Time for new beginnings. He had his life more under control than he did last year, and it was time to make it what he wanted it to be.

He knew he loved cooking, and would try his very best to make the cookbook successful. He would give the book tour everything he had, charm every fan who came out to an event, and try to be interesting in any interviews he gave. He would take pictures and post them on this blog, giving his followers the inside look of the tour. When the tour was done, he could figure out the next step.

Sherlock…John sighed, just thinking about him. It was time to let things go. They had started the fake relationship as a way to promote his new mystery, and it had done well. They had only continued it because it was the easiest option.

John sighed again. He would leave things as they were until the end of the book tour. If questions came up about Sherlock, he would answer them truthfully, but he wouldn't make a big effort to 'sell' the relationship. It was time to face that they were friends, and headed different directions. Sherlock was busy with his book in LA. John would likely be finding some cooking-related work in England.

One more day together, and Sherlock would be flying far, far away. John could keep up the act with him for one more day. It might be the last time he saw him for a very long time. An end to this chapter in his life.

XXX

"So, do I have to wear a tux to this party tonight?" John sighed, looking away from the passing scenery towards Sherlock.

"Oh, you are talking to me now?" Sherlock drawled. "That's the second time you've asked me about wearing a tux. Is it something you want to do?"

John held back a dozen snarky responses. He had woken up in a bad mood, and hardly managed to be polite around Sherlock's parents at breakfast. It was a relief to be in the Land Rover, heading back to London.

He had spent most of the drive looking out the window. Perhaps it was a little rude, not talking to Sherlock after spending so much time together all week. He would act his part tonight better when they were at Sherlock's function. Be the perfect boyfriend when they had an audience. He was done with keeping up the façade when it was just them alone.

"No, I have no desire to wear one. I just want to dress appropriately for this event tonight. What can you tell me about it?"

Sherlock flicked a glance his way, his eyes assessing like they always were. "It's very casual. Jeans and jumpers are fine."

John would have asked more questions, but they were already pulling into the heavier London traffic, and he left Sherlock alone to deal with it, looking back out of the window.

XXX

"What is this place?" John asked, as they got out of a black cab in central London.

Sherlock took his hand, and tugged him forward with a wide, happy grin, saying nothing. He went up to a black door with brass numbers '221B' and opened it without knocking. He took off his Belstaff, and hung it on the end of the bannister, and walked down the hall. John left his coat and followed him.

Knocking on the door, it was quickly answered by an older woman, who instantly brightened up and hugged Sherlock tight. "Oh good! You made it!"

"Mrs. Hudson, I'd like you to meet John Watson." Sherlock gave John a little push to enter the flat, closing the door behind them.

Her smile was warm and welcoming. "Finally! I've seen you with Sherlock in so many pictures, I feel like I know you already." She fetched them both wine and encouraged them to sit down.

It was a small flat, a good size for a widow on her own. It was cheerfully decorated with strings of colored lights along the mantel and walls in the living room, giving the space a warm glow.

There was another knock at the door, and the flat suddenly felt quite crowded. Sherlock and the older lady were busy greeting everyone and hanging up coats with easy familiarity.

When everyone had settled down with drinks, Sherlock reached over and took John's hand again.

 _The Show was on, it seemed._

John played along, planting a friendly smile on his face as Sherlock introduced him to the group. It appeared to be his friends from Scotland Yard; a few cops, forensic experts, and a morgue worker.

"We never thought we would actually meet the elusive 'boyfriend'. Sherlock was always stressing how busy you were." One of the cops commented, an attractive man with salt and pepper hair.

A young woman with kind, dark eyes shook her head at the cop. "Greg, be fair. Sherlock said John was taking courses and then working on his book for a couple months. It obviously wasn't a lie. He's here." She looked back at John, her smile friendly.

He could only give a half-smile back. "Um, yeah…here I am." _But I won't be around long._ Would he ever meet these people again? Probably not.

Excusing himself, he went to the loo, and then took his time getting another drink in the kitchen. He could hear Sherlock laughing and talking with his friends nearby.

"So, you're Sherlock's boyfriend. How did _he_ get a boyfriend?"

John looked over at the young dark-haired woman who came into the kitchen, taking a bottle of beer from the fridge, and leaning against the counter.

Her tone and stance seemed a little challenging, and John found it a bit odd, considering they were all at a New Year's Eve gathering. Had someone pushed her to come to this?

John met her gaze directly. "Oh, I'm just acting like his boyfriend in exchange for sexual favors." He'd had enough drinks to lose a bit of his filter, but her attitude irked him a little.

He felt a presence nearby, and then arms wrapped around him, pulling him back against a warm body. Part of him wanted to spring away, get his distance, but most of him just sunk back against Sherlock. This was the last night he could enjoy this.

"Are you spilling all our secrets to Sally?" Sherlock dipped his head to whisper into John's ear, his voice deep and a little scratchy. It sent a shiver of awareness through him that he couldn't control.

Sally huffed, and sauntered out of the room, sipping her beer.

John pulled out of Sherlock's arms immediately. "Sorry, I'll watch what I say more carefully."

Turning to face Sherlock, John couldn't deny he looked good. He was wearing a burgundy dress shirt with charcoal grey trousers, the clothes fitted to his slim frame so well. His face had a bit more color in it than usual, as a result of the red wine he had been drinking. But his eyes were the things John couldn't look away from.

All week, Sherlock had been friendly, but a little distant. He was the opposite now, definite heat in his glance as he looked John over.

After a week of just cuddling, it was jarring to have Sherlock looking at him like that, with such blatent sexual interest. Was this because they were away from his parents' house? Because Sherlock had imbided a couple glasses of wine, and John was handy? Because, like last time, he was leaving tomorrow and wouldn't have to deal with the results if they hooked up tonight?

Sherlock walked slowly closer, and John unconsciously stepped back, until he bumped against a wall. He crowded John, his hands on the wall on either side of his body, his gaze locked on John's mouth.

The sane part of John's brain was screaming for him to move away, go back into the living room, and keep his distance. But he felt frozen under that look, and unconsciously licked his lips.

Sherlock let out a small groan before leaning in for a hard kiss. John felt the heat zing through his body, instant desire, and wrapped his arms tight around Sherlock. Just needing to feel his warm body, just one last time.

"Oh, sorry!" A surprised female voice nearby pulled them out of it a few minutes later.

Sherlock gave Mrs. Hudson a quick look. "It's us who should be sorry. We should be doing this somewhere more private. We'll head back to my place." He stepped away, and took John's hand.

"But you'll miss celebrating New Year's with us!" The older lady glanced towards the champagne glasses on the countertop.

He swooped in to give her a tight hug, and she chuckled at his antics. He whispered in her ear, and kissed her cheek before pulling back. He took John's hand again and tugged him along. With a quick wave at his friends, they had slipped out of the flat.

John wanted to object as they got into the back of a black cab. But Sherlock was all over him, urgent hands and kisses robbed John of any sane thoughts. He reacted intensely, the last week of sexual tension feeding into his own hunger for this man.

 _One last night together. This was it._ John swore to himself as he yanked Sherlock closer, kissing the sensitive spot near his ear just to hear Sherlock groan harshly.

XXX

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: Sorry if things are a bit of a messy jumble… it will all be sorted out soon enough. Also, I said there would be 2 more chapters at the end of Chapter 11, but there will now be 14 chapters total. Silly boys... ;)

-Morocco: Harry & Clara go for a week down to Marrakech. It's about a 3.5-hour direct flight from London, and the temperatures are around 15 C that time of year. It looks gorgeous and I really want to go soon.

-Movie: They watch the 1942 Hitchcock thriller 'Notorious', starring Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman, both looking young and gorgeous. She starred with Humphrey Bogart in 'Casablanca' the same year.  
The movie was notorious also for a long, long kissing scene (2.5 minutes). Hitchcock got around the strict Hays Code (moral guidelines major US studios followed from 1930 - 1968) that limited kisses to less than 3 seconds, by having them cuddling and clinging to each other between the kisses.


	13. Chapter 13

John stepped out of the back room with Hazel. The bookstore seemed really crowded. As he walked with her, he noticed people turning to look at him, and then talking with the people near them. It reminded him of how people acted around Sherlock at events, standing behind the barricades.

Hazel chuckled at John, and dragged him up to a table covered with a black tablecloth. Sitting him in the chair behind it, she made sure he had sharpie markers and bottled water nearby. "You'll be fine, John."

The bookstore staff was used to book signings, and controlled the readers, sending them up one at a time. John just focused on each person who showed up, greeting them warmly and listening to what they had to say. Taking their book, and writing what was on a post-it note onto the title page of the book, and signing 'J Watson'.

The third person to come up was Harry, grinning like a maniac. He jumped up, coming around the table to give her a hug.

"This is amazing, John!" She said, still clutching him close.

Nodding and smiling, he backed off and went back to his chair. "Thanks for buying my book. Should I sign this to Miss Watson or Mrs. Thompson?" He tried to keep a straight face as he opened her book and got ready to sign it.

She shared a happy look with him, and flashed her ring at him. "I'm still a Watson for now. Not sure yet what we will do with our names."

John signed the book, and introduced her to Hazel. Hazel took a picture of them together, after greeting Harry warmly.

It was a blur of people after that, many people saying how much they enjoyed his blog and asking questions about Sherlock. John felt like he handled it pretty well.

A large Italian man passed John his book. "My name is Angelo. Sherlock is a friend of mine, ever since he helped me out of a legal jam once."

"Oh really?" John chuckled, signing the book.

Taking the book back, Angelo smiled warmly. "Next time you are both in town, come by to my restaurant and I'll make you my new vegetarian lasagna."

"You own a restaurant? Why are you buying my book? You probably could teach me a thing or two." John laughed.

The older man gave John a sincere look. "Sherlock has been by a few times the last few months. You are good for him, I can tell."

John was touched, and passed the book back. Sherlock had a very diverse circle of friends and associates.

After about an hour, he was surprised when a few more of Sherlock's friends appeared. "Oh, Mrs. Hudson! And...um..." He struggled to remember their names from the other night.

"Molly and Greg." The brunette with the long ponytail supplied as she passed over the cookbooks to sign.

John felt a little embarrassed as he signed their books, thinking how he and Sherlock had left the party before midnight. "It's so nice of you to come out and buy my book."

Greg shrugged. "Well, how many published authors do you meet usually?"

Mrs. Hudson nudged him. "What about Sherlock!"

"Yes, obviously, but he's usually running around with us like he's another one of the investigators. I never think of him typing madly at a keyboard." Greg said as he took his book back from John. "Thanks for this. I just got divorced and I need to learn how to cook healthy stuff at home. Eating out too much is making my waistband a little tight."

John nodded. "Well, these are all easy recipes I did when I was just learning how to cook. Let me know how it goes."

A little while later, he got into a deep conversation with a follower of his blog.

"It's like everyone thinks we came home mad, bad or sad." The man was probably close to John's age, and appeared to have no injuries.

John could only nod in agreement. "Yeah, I didn't even know what to apply for when I came back to England. There isn't a big need for tank drivers here. I was a bit lost for a while, Andy."

He could tell the man really related to what he was saying, and felt good. He passed the signed book back.

Andy took it and sighed. "It feels hopeless at times. Do you know that we have twice the unemployment rate? I'm healthy, ready to work, and can't get in anywhere."

John wanted to talk more, but could tell the people still in line were getting impatient with how long he was taking. "Look, give my agent Hazel here your information. I'd like to talk with you more sometime."

This had happened many times during the signing, meeting interesting people who wanted to share their interesting stories, or their views on the blog. Hazel was getting quite a long list of contacts.

Eventually, they got to the end of the line. John felt exhausted as he hugged Hazel, and thanked the bookstore staff for all their help.

"I never expected so many people so show up." John commented when they went out for a celebratory dinner afterwards.

Hazel gave him a big smirk. "Damn! I should have had a bet with you about the turnout. You thought it would be less than fifty! I'm sure it was over 500."

John was still amazed at the crowd. "Well, it was a lot of friends and family. The ones in the US won't be like this."

XXX

He saw he was wrong when he arrived at the Barnes and Noble in The Grove, a bookstore he had often visited when he lived in Los Angeles.

"What the hell!" John mumbled to Hazel as he got set up at his table.

She just laughed at him. "At least this time I had a bet in place! It will be sweet having you buy me dinner."

"But I can't tonight, remember." John reminded her.

She nodded, setting out his sharpies. "Yes, yes...you have your mysterious plans later. I know."

Even though this was a different bookstore, a different country, the process was quite similar. The staff were adept at directing the people waiting in the line, and John just concentrated on each person as they came up. Signing their book the way they wanted, listening to them talk about how they had come across his blog. Many were fans of Sherlock for years, and got curious about John from their relationship being in entertainment news lately. Others were interesting in cooking, and found him that way. They often had their phones out, wanting a selfie, and John was glad Wanda had reviewed his wardrobe in December, getting him a few new pieces to mix in with the rest. He looked as good as he could, wearing olive green trousers with a cable knit, off-white jumper, only the collar of his dark button-up shirt showing.

About thirty minutes into the signing, he noticed everyone turning to look the other direction, and couldn't help look that way himself. He heard the people in line murmuring to each other, as they pulled out their cell phones, holding them up to take pictures. It was like watching a school of fish, their actions were so similar.

The reason became clear when John saw Sherlock walking towards him, heading straight to the table. He was dressed beautifully, in a crisp white dress shirt with no tie, and a steel blue suit perfectly tailored to his slim frame. His walk was confident, almost like a male model on a catwalk, so it was no wonder that the fans were snapping pictures and taking videos of him.

He ignored the line, coming to stand right in front of the table, looking down at John with a confident half-smile. The reader John had been talking to stepped to the side, giving up the floor to Sherlock, who acknowledged it with a small nod.

"What are you doing here, Sherlock?" John finally asked, when the berk just stood there for a few moments.

With a grin, Sherlock put a gift bag onto the table. It was a fairly good size, and seemed to be made of thick handmade paper, in a rich golden orange color. "This is for you, to congratulate you on your first book being published. And I want you to sign my book, of course."

"You are kind of skipping the line, you realize." John couldn't help but give a small smile at this ridiculous situation, and waved a hand towards the fans avidly watching them.

Sherlock leaned closer. "Well, I thought maybe you'd give me a pass on that, just this once." He placed a copy of the cookbook in front of John.

With a small huff at his dramatics, John picked up his sharpie and opened the book. " _To Sherlock – You like to think that you're immune to the stuff… but I know the truth. You would probably kill for the chocolate cherry trifle. Love – John."_ The berk probably wouldn't ever bother to open the cookbook to see what he wrote.

He passed the book back, and tried not to stare when Sherlock gave him a warm smile. Had it only been a few days since New Year's? It felt like months.

"I'd like a picture with the author, if that's allowed." Sherlock said, glancing over at Hazel with a mischievous smile that no human could resist.

Hazel arranged them, standing beside each other with the bookstore's panel of logos behind them, taking her time to take many pictures. The fans were lapping it up, taking tons of their own pictures as well.

John stood there, smiling for the cameras, Sherlock's arm draped across his back, his hand resting on his waist. As they posed, and the lights flashed, John's heart sunk.

 _Oh, this was all a pre-arranged photo-op._

He watched Hazel, the way she moved to get the best shots she could. Always wanting what was best for her clients. Working hard to promote them the way their audience would response to the best.

Even the recent holidays weren't private. There had been no paparazzi around them in London, but somehow pictures of John and Sherlock together at Christmas, and at New Years had gotten online, spreading far and wide. Further proof of their relationship. Spending time with family and friends together.

Only Sherlock's parents and friends could have taken those pictures. Sherlock must have been sent them, and forwarded them to Hazel. It was the only way.

Just then, Sherlock turned towards John, and kissed him. Right in front of everyone. The crowd cheered, and even more pictures were taken. It took John a stunned few seconds before he pulled back, breathless. A bit shocked, and staring at Sherlock like he didn't know the man at all.

Sherlock didn't seem to notice. "Open your gift." He squeezed John's waist.

With an internal sigh, John followed the request. He only had to play along, play his role. Be shocked and amazed at the thoughtful gift his boyfriend had given him, which was probably selected by Hazel.

Opening up the bag, John looked in, and shot Sherlock a puzzled look. He pulled the item out of the bag, setting it onto the table. It was a fairly large green cactus, a flat oval with fleshy outgrowths along the top edge, most of them the same green, but some changing into a magenta purple. It was in a simple terra cotta clay pot.

Sherlock leaned in to whisper in his ear. "I was thinking of getting your flowers, but thought a cactus seemed more masculine. It's a prickly pear cactus, and the fruits growing on top are edible when they fully ripen."

Out of everything today, this was the only thing that seemed to be truly Sherlock. Sherlock, his friend, the man who had supported him this past year. The fake relationship was sitting on top of a true relationship, and this personal gift, with the explanation only for John's ears, touched him.

Turning, John gave Sherlock a hug. Whatever the future held, they would be friends.

He pulled back. "Thanks. I can't take it with me on tour, though."

Sherlock shrugged. "Bring it back to my place when you come over tonight. You can leave it there for now."

Tonight? "Oh, um… didn't Hazel clear our plans with you? I think she's staying with you, but I'm staying with a friend. Someone I haven't seen since last summer."

Sherlock's brows drew down, and he stepped away, looking around. "Oh. I just assumed…" He glanced over to Hazel, and she gave him a 'wrap-it-up' signal, moving her hand in a subtle circle. He sighed. "Well, Hazel can bring it over. How about you come by and have breakfast with us, before you head out?"

"Just like old times. The old house, breakfast meetings. OK, see you then." John nodded, stepping back to his chair, and sat down as Sherlock strode off.

The rest of the readers were excited, asking him lots of questions about Sherlock. He smiled, and downplayed it all, asking them what they thought of the blog. He knew Hazel and Sherlock just wanted to show their support, having him appear like that as 'The Boyfriend', but it really threw off the vibe of the whole signing session.

When the signing was done, he put the cactus back into the gift bag, and handed it to Hazel. "Do you mind taking this back to Sherlock's? He's going to keep it for me until I'm done the tour."

She peaked into the bag. "Why a cactus? I told him to get a large mixed bouquet of flowers. Something you could display on the table during the signing. Something more romantic."

John just shrugged. "Sherlock is Sherlock. Does anyone really understand half of the things he does?"

Nodding in agreement, she stepped closer, patting his shoulder. "You are doing great with the tour so far, just staying focused on what's the most important thing, the readers."

The feedback was welcome. "Thanks Hazel. See you tomorrow at breakfast."

"Sure we can't give you a ride somewhere?" Hazel asked, gathering up her purse.

John shook his head. "No, my friend is meeting me here."

XXX

"John!" An attractive dark-haired woman rushed up to him, throwing her arms around him to give him a tight hug.

He hugged her back just as hard, just realizing now how much he had missed her.

She pulled back, shaking her head, her large dark eyes full of remorse. "I'm so sorry I'm so late! I really wanted to be here for the end of your book signing, but my shift ran over."

"It's fine, Maria. It gave me time to look around the bookstore, and have a coffee. It was nice to just do something normal for a while." John took her hand, leading her out of the bookstore. It was dark outside, as they made their way down the street. "I'm so hungry."

"Me too!" She laughed, pulling John along to walk faster to their favorite stall in the farmer's market, with it's cheery yellow sign with red lettering. She was greeted warmly, and rattled off a stream of Spanish that John had no hope of following.

It wasn't long before they were sitting at a small round table with basic metal folding chairs. The floor was cement, and scents from the many food stalls all around them mixed in the cool night air.

The simple surroundings didn't make a difference, as they both dug into the food hungrily. "Oh my god, this is so fantastic. What did you even order?" John said between mouthfuls.

Maria gave an elegant shrug of one shoulder. "I just asked them to surprise me. They know my tastes well enough by now." She pointed to one plate. "I think that is _Cochinita Pibil_ , pork marinated with citrus and achiote, slowly roasted in a banana leaf. And that," she pointed at another dish, "I think it's grilled chicken that was marinated with ancho chiles. _Pollo Asado En Chile Ancho._ "

Part of John's brain was trying to distinguish the various flavors, trying to unravel what made it so delicious, but mostly he was just enjoying the food. It was familiar, reminding him of all the times he had come down here with Maria last year, just needing a cheap meal and a place to talk.

"Do you know how to make any of this? Did you learn to cook from your mother?" John asked, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin.

Maria shook her head. "I only learned how to make a couple basic things. I was too into boys as a teenager to spend much time in the kitchen."

Reaching into his messenger bag, John pulled out a copy of his cookbook. "That reminds me. Here's your copy."

She took it reverently, gliding her small hands over the glossy cover. It had a white background, with brightly colored healthy food scattered across it like they had been thrown in the air. The title was in bold, stylized print over the image. It looked professional and eye-catching. John was pleased how it had turned out.

"Oh John. This is beautiful." She said in a hushed tone, opening the book carefully. She flipped through the book slowly, looking at the professional photographs Jessica and Marcus had done such a great job with, and chuckling over the smaller photos scattered throughout from John's original blog postings. After reading over the title page, where he had written a special message to her, she lifted a napkin to wipe some tears away.

John leaned in to give her a hug. Seeing such a genuine reaction to all of his hard work made it feel so real. He was blinking back the tears himself. "So, you like it then?"

She let out a half-laugh. "Yes, you asshole. It's perfect and I'm so fucking proud of you." She closed the book, and hugged it to her chest. "Although it's wasted on me. I'm a horrible cook."

Rolling his eyes at his friend, he shook his head. "The recipes are all from when I was learning to cook. The techniques are tested to make them clear and easy to follow."

Scrunching up her lips a little, she put the book into her large purse, and crossed her legs. "John, you know what my life is like. I work long hours, and come home exhausted. The kids are hungry right when I get in the door, and I don't have the time or energy to fuss around with anything fancy. Plus, it's hard to afford a lot of those ingredients on my budget. Maybe someday, when the kids are a little older, I'll have more time and money, and I can try some of the recipes out."

Explained like that, John could only nod in understanding. "I get it. Now, should we stop by the bakery to pick up some black and white cookies for the kids before we head back to your place?"

Standing up, she looped her arm through his, and they headed off to the bakery.

XXX

John felt a little fuzzy as he sipped the coffee, trying to ease into the day. Unfortunately, Hazel seemed to have already been up for hours and was talking a mile a minute. Did she have an off-switch?

"Hazel, Hazel…can we talk about all this later? I'm not really that awake yet." John finally had to say, as he grabbed a bagel and spread chunky peanut butter all over it.

She gave him an assessing look. "How late were you up? How much did you drink?"

John yawned widely. "We didn't drink that much. Just one bottle between us. She kept me up late though." It had been a great night, seeing Maria's kids again, and then catching up with her. Talking until the wee hours, when they were both sleepy.

Hazel made an unimpressed noise. "Well, at least you can sleep on the plane." They were leaving soon for Portland.

It would only be a couple hours, but it would probably be enough to get him through the rest of the day. This was only the start of the tour, so he couldn't do late nights like yesterday too often. But he didn't have close friends in the other cities to keep him up.

Sherlock sat down, and took a carrot muffin. "Where were you last night?" His tone wasn't impressed.

"Just with an old friend I met while I lived here. We both were at a drum circle, and had horrible rhythm. It got us laughing so hard, they actually kicked us out. We bonded over some drinks at a blues bar nearby." John smiled at the memory. It had been one of the first meet-up groups he had tried.

"How come I never met her?" Sherlock asked petulantly.

Taking a long sip of coffee, John considered how to answer that. "Actually, I don't think you've met any of my LA friends."

"Ashamed of me?" Sherlock snipped.

 _Somebody had woken up on the wrong side of the bed today._ John had seen Sherlock acting like this around Mycroft a little, but had never had his bad attitude directed his way. He sighed. "Sherlock, just drop it, OK? Can't we just have a nice breakfast together?"

Hazel jumped into talking about how well the tour was going so far, trying to lighten the mood a little, but it didn't really work.

XXX

 *****FOUR WEEKS LATER*****

John took his seat at the table, and nodded to the staff to allow the first person to come up. Even after all these weeks, it still felt amazing that so many people kept showing up to the signings.

He was really exhausted, his hand ached from signing so many books, but he tried to give it his all with each person. They had bought his books, waited patiently in line to see him. He could be gracious.

Thank god this was the last event. No more interviews at small radio stations, or regional morning TV news shows. He wasn't well known enough to get onto the big national programs, like Sherlock had, but he didn't mind. He needed to work his way up.

Matthew appeared at the side of his table, with a microphone in his hand. He waited until John finished with his reader before speaking. "Hello Everyone. Thank you for coming out for this signing of John's Watson book, hopefully the first of many." The comment got a cheer from the people still in line.

"I'm Matthew Rogers, and I work for the publisher of this fine book." He grabbed a copy of the cookbook, holding it up for everyone to see. "As many of you know, we had a contest open to anyone who pre-ordered a copy of the book by December 15th. I'm here to help John select the winners."

Holding out a large stainless steel stockpot, Matthew gave John a big smile as he stood up, and put his hand into the all the entries, mixing it up as he grasped one. Pulling out his hand, he passed the slip to Matthew.

"Margaret Torrington, in Coventry, England."

John selected another slip, and handed it to Matthew.

"Peter Romanov, in Chicago, Illinois."

Setting down the pot, Matthew held the names up. "Let's have a big hand for the winners, Peter and Margaret. John will be spending a day with each of them in their hometowns, shopping and cooking a meal with them. We will post this video on the publishers website and link it to John's blog."

Smiling at Matthew, John took his seat again. Hazel would be contacting the contest winners and setting up the dates. They would likely be scheduled soon. The publisher saw it as a photo op, John cooking with some of the readers. It would be the last part of the promotion.

As he went back to signing, he couldn't help being impressed with how well things had gone. The contest had driven up pre-orders, showing there was a lot of interest in John's book. It made it easier for the promotional team to book John on to radio and TV shows, and made the bookstores prepare for good turnout at his signings.

A woman came up wearing large dark sunglasses, a dark fedora and a tan trench coat that came down to her knees. She set her book down on the table, and then stood with her feet planted shoulder width apart.

John just gave her a curious look.

"John Watson, remember how you said nudists are always nude under their clothes?" She undid her belt, grabbing the sides of the coat with each hand, and before John could say anything, yanked the coat fully open, giving him an eyeful.

After a quick look downwards, John's expression turned from shock to amusement, and he laughed loudly. "Amy! You practically gave me a heart attack!"

Chuckling, she closed the coat as he got up and came around the table to give her a big hug.

"I can't believe you showed up for this signing! And that you dressed up like that!" John laughed, pulling back to look down at his friend's smiling face.

She gave him a cheeky grin back. "I just thought it would be fun." They had kept in touch since the Book Expo, joking around often via text. He had gone to dinner with her a couple times when he was working on the cookbook in the fall.

A couple other people walked up to the table, and John greeted them with a warm grin as well. "Jessica! Marcus! All my favorite people are showing up at once."

He introduced the photographers to Amy, after giving the couple some hugs.

Looking down at Marcus' shirt, he saw it was for the old band, The Ramones. "Oh shit..." John looked up at Marcus' face, and shook his head. "This just really isn't my day. Amy just flashed me, and now you've stumped me with a fucking shirt."

Jessica smiled at Amy. "You flashed John? Just now?"

Amy nodded, putting her hands back on the edges of her coat. "Yup. Wanna see?"

Chuckling, Jessica took the lens cap off her camera. "Go for it."

Taking a step away, Amy pulled the coat open wide, revealing she was wearing a flesh tone body suit underneath, with wide black bars made of stiff cardboard covering her breasts and crotch like censor bars. John mocked making a shocked face for the picture.

The fans in line took their share of photos as well, laughing at the costume.

"I love it. May have to wear it for Halloween this year." Jessica chuckled as she lowered her camera.

Amy had her coat belted back up, and gave John's shoulder a nudge. "Hmmm...I saw the pictures of you with Sherlock last Halloween. Are you guys going to be back in New York for it this year?"

John chuckled, going back around to his side of the table. "That's months away. Who knows?"

"Well, if you are in town, you should come out with us again." Marcus was grinning a little too widely.

Shaking his head, John sat down. "I am still totally blanking on a Ramones song. Sheesh, getting old or something."

Glancing at Jessica, Marcus started singing a line. _"Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go..."_ He pointed at John.

 _"...I wanna be sedated."_ John finished it. "I literally do. Hey! You should all stick around and come out for drinks with us. Celebrate the end of the tour." He looked at Marcus, Jessica and Amy each in turn, giving them beseeching eyes.

Somehow, he got them all to agree. Within a few minutes, he had Marcus and Jessica sitting beside him at the table, chatting with readers as they came up about their photographs, even signing some of the books as well. Amy was chatting with Hazel and Matthew.

The last hour of the signing flew by, with John joking around with all the remaining readers. They got into the spirit of it, often asking for Amy to pose with them and John in the selfie pictures.

XXX

Hazel plunked down beside John, and gave him a hug. "You did an awesome job, John. Matthew is already asking me if you are thinking of doing another book."

John set his beer glass down with a thunk. "I just finished this one! Give me a few weeks to relax before you start cracking the whip!"

She chuckled at how drunk he was already, and took out her phone.

Matthew was talking pretty intensively with Amy, and Jessica was dancing with Marcus. It was a pretty good celebration so far, ordering a few platters of appies along with a few pitchers of beer.

"Well, you have tomorrow off, but you will be in Chicago with the contest winner the day after that." Hazel said, flicking through the schedule. "We haven't heard from the U.K. winner yet."

Jessica came over and grabbed John, pulling him out to the dance floor for the next song.

Hazel got a new message, and almost dropped her phone. She got up, grabbing John from the dance floor, and pulling him into the lobby.

"What? Why did you pull me out here?" John looked a bit put out from her actions.

Hazel gave him a strange grin.

John tilted his head to the side a little. "Whaaaaat? You're giving me a funny look."

"I have some good news and some bad news for you."

John sighed. "Um, OK..."

"The great, amazing news is that there was a cancelation on the Tania Jenkins show, and they want you."

It took a couple seconds for that to sink in. "Tania? Jenkins? Me?" It was just too much to believe. She had one of the highest rated daytime TV talk shows in the US.

"The bad news is that it's for tomorrow and it's in LA. I have to get you on the next plane." Hazel said, her face completely focused on business for once.

News like that had an instantly sobering effect on John. "So, basically no time to prepare to go on to a national TV show for the first time?"

Hazel nodded slowly.

"Fuck it. Let's do this." John said with a shrug.

XXX

"We are back with food blogger John Watson, and he is going to show us how to make his infamous Kung Pao Chicken." Tania smiled into the camera, tying a black chef's apron over her red dress.

John poured oil into the wok, tilting the pan to coat the surface evenly. "First we will heat the oil, and then add the fresh minced garlic and ginger."

Tania hummed appreciatively. "It already smells great. I love ginger."

John concentrated on keeping up the conversation as he cooked with the famous TV host, while internally he was freaking out a little. It was a huge, professional TV studio, with a studio audience, to make it even more terrifying.

They had already completed the first half of the segment, sitting in big chairs with large screens behind them. Tania was wonderfully professional, putting John at ease as she asked him about his time in the military, his injury and how he had gotten into cooking. The audience had cheered and whistled at the pictures on the screens of John in his desert camouflage uniform, leaning against a tank. They had cheered even louder when she showed a picture of Sherlock kissing him at the LA book signing. John had tried to downplay her questions about their relationship.

Passing the bamboo spatula to her to continue stirring the food, he added the marinated chicken. "Just stir that for a minute or two."

The elegant older woman tucked her silver blond hair behind an ear, as the chicken cooked. "So, is it true that all British tanks must be equipped with a tea maker?"

John kept chopping peppers, and grinned at her. "Of course. Just because we are at war, doesn't mean we have to act like savages."

She chuckled. "So, I'm picturing four soldiers, pulling out a tray with a teapot, complete with a tea cozy, in the confines of a 60 ton tank."

"Some people pray when they have problems that they want solved. We drink tea." John added the colorful vegetables to the wok.

She stirred the vegetables into the mix. "Problems like your tank being hit by 70 RPGs near Basra?"

John shrugged. "Things did get a little tense when the rocking from the grenades tipped the Twinnings over." He added the sauce to the wok. "This is a mix of soya sauce, honey and rice vinegar. With a little cornstarch to thicken it."

"So, I heard you played a little prank on your boyfriend at Halloween." Tania kept stirring the wok as John plated steamed rice onto a colorful platter.

John chuckled. "Halloween is a much bigger celebration in the US than it is in the U.K., so my food photographers dressed me up and hauled me to a huge costume party to show me what it was all about."

"This was in New York, right?" Tania asked, adding peanuts to the food when John passed her a dish of them.

He nodded. "Somehow, I ended up a finalist in the costume contest, and Sherlock was the guest judge."

"Hmmmm...the way you are telling it makes you sound quite innocent. The way I heard it, you were try to fool your boyfriend, wearing the costume and you had even grown a bit of a beard, to see if he would recognize you." Tania nudged his shoulder playfully.

Picking up the wok, John carefully tilted it to spill the colorful mix of chicken, peppers and small hot chilies over the rice. "Well, believe whatever version you prefer, but Sherlock saw through my disguise anyways. He's too smart for his own good."

"This looks delicious!" Tania passed John a fork, and took a bite with her own. "Oh, so good. I've heard this is as good as your kisses, John, but I really have no way to judge that."

John rolled his eyes as that. Almost every interviewer had teased him about that comment from Sherlock.

"Maybe I can help with that." A deep, familiar voice said, from behind John.

Whirling around, John was shocked to see Sherlock standing behind him, smiling widely. Before he could really react, he grabbed John, kissing him hard. The studio audience was cheering wildly.

Tania chuckled, standing off to the side as the kiss went on and on. She gave a little shrug. "Um, yes, we will just leave them to that. They haven't seen each other for a month." She held up a copy of John's book. "I have been cooking with John Watson, and you can find this recipe in his book, 'Fit for a King', that is in bookstores now."

Sherlock had finally let John up, and John was looking a little dazed. As the crowd applauded loudly, the credits started rolling, and Sherlock chatted with Tania. He grabbed John's fork, and took a bite of the Kung Pao. The show ended soon after that.

Tania turned to the men with a smile as the cameras turned off. "That was really fun, you two. John, please come back with your next book. Sherlock, you know you are always welcome."

The men said their goodbyes to her, and Sherlock grabbed John's hand, guiding him back to the green room.

John was still feeling a bit stunned. The last day had been a mad scramble. He was already exhausted from the long book tour, and hung over from going out after the signing. To suddenly be on another plane to Hollywood, preparing for a segment on one of the biggest daytime talk shows, with not much time to mentally prepare for it, had drained the last of his energy reserves. He was practically punch-drunk with exhaustion.

Hazel was in the green room, and launched herself at John for a big hug when he entered. "I watched the whole thing from back here. It went perfect!"

John nodded, untying his black chef's apron and dropping it on a chair. "Yeah, I think it went OK." He felt a bit numb, the adrenaline that had gotten him through the segment fading now. After a few days of rest, he'd watch the show and see how he did.

"And you were perfect!" Hazel punched Sherlock's arm, giving him a wide grin. "Didn't I tell you it would be a huge crowd pleaser? Don't ever doubt me again."

John dropped onto the chair, feeling like he had been hit with a hard uppercut. He had been shocked at Sherlock's sudden appearance, and the kiss had been long and wonderful. After so many weeks apart, it had felt so right, so good, to be back in this man's arms. It had felt like such a romantic moment, his boyfriend surprising him like that. A big romantic gesture.

He had been a sap to be taken in by it, just like the audience had lapped it all up. It had obviously all been Hazel's plan all along, and looking back, she had probably been behind Halloween as well. Too many coincidences had come together for that to happen on their own.

She was good at her job. Too damn good. She sold the idea of their fake relationship, made these amazing moments that got captured on video or mobile phones, moments that went viral on their own. She sold the fake relationship so good, even John had bought it.

Hazel and Sherlock were chatting, not even noticing how quiet John had been. Celebrating their success.

John sighed, looking up at them. "Hazel, can you give Sherlock and I some time alone?"

She gave him a delighted look. "Oh, of course. You two want some privacy after all this time apart. I'll guard the door, make sure you aren't interrupted." She slipped out to the hallway, holding her phone and a bottle of water.

"John, there is something I've been wanting to say-" Sherlock started, moving to stand closer to John as he got up. His incredible eyes were warm, a small smile on his lips.

With an impatient wave of his hand, John cut him off. "Enough, Sherlock, enough. We are alone now, I don't need more of the act. Look, we have had a good run of it, all these months, but it's time to end the fake relationship now, OK?"

Sherlock's eyes widened, and he looked stunned. "Oh, you mean you don't want to..."

"I will always consider you a good friend, Sherlock. Our lives are simply going in different directions. You can go back to your castle on the hill, while I run around, from job to job, figuring out how to make a living in this industry." John sighed, feeling a million years old.

Sherlock shook his head, and took John's hand. "Let me help you. Stay at my place, here or in London. I know some people you could meet..."

Pulling his hand away, John stepped back. This was hard enough as it was, without Sherlock being nice on top of it all. "No, no. You have been a great help to me all last year, but it's time I figure things out on my own now. I'm glad the fake relationship helped launch your new book. Your next one will be just as great."

Sherlock scoffed. "You've only read one of my books, and you didn't like it."

"No, I read 'Shadow of Doubt' after Christmas. It was brilliant. Beautiful." Behind the stylized detective story, there was a raw love story, and John had been sincerely moved by the words. Reading it had made him feel even more for this complex man.

Grabbing his suitcase, John shoved everything into it, not caring if things got wrinkled. "I'm heading back to the airport now for Chicago. The publisher has a promotional thing I need to do." It would be a rush to get to the flight as it was.

Sherlock was giving his neutral face, the one he wore around paparazzi usually, hiding everything behind that mask. "Oh, OK then." He stepped back awkwardly.

John looked around the room quickly, making sure he had everything, and wheeled his case to the door.

"Wait." Sherlock said softly. He grabbed John's arm to keep him from opening the door. He stepped close, his eyes impossible to read. He dipped down, giving John a short, firm kiss. "Goodbye, John."

John swallowed hard, trying to keep himself together. "Um, yeah. Goodbye, Sherlock." He barely got the words out before he had to look away, fumbling with the door handle and making his escape. As soon as he could, he slipped his sunglasses on, and hopped into the taxi with Hazel, heading to the airport.

XXX

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: Stick up your hand if you want to slap some sense into John. *looks around* Hmmmm...everyone? ;)  
-One more chapter...

-Mexican Food: John and Maria go to Loteria Grill, in the Old Farmer's Market by the Grove in LA. Jimmy Shaw opened the first grill in 2002 there, serving regional Mexican specialties that he grew up with in Mexico City. LA is the 2nd largest Mexican city in the world, and he and his ex-pat friends found a lot of Cal Mex and Tex Mex cuisine, but missed the true, regional food of Mexico. The restaurant grew from the small open-air stall to a group of restaurants.

-Tank Tea Party: Since WWII, British tanks have had a _bivvie_ or Boiler Vessel so they can safely brew tea inside. It is also used to heat up boil in the bag rations.

-Tanks and RPGs: British Challenger 2 tanks can withstand a lot. In one attack, the sights on a tank were damaged and it threw its tracks entering a ditch. Unable to get away, it was hit directly by 14 rocket propelled grenades (RPGs) from close range and an anti-tank missile. Wikipedia: "The crew survived, remaining safe within the tank until it was recovered for repairs, the worst damage being to the sighting system. It was back in operation six hours later, after repairs had been done. Another Challenger 2 operating near Basra survived being hit by 70 RPGs in another incident."


	14. Chapter 14

John walked through the produce selection, automatically disregarding the more expensive ones. He reached for root vegetables mostly, in the larger bags.

Looking over the cart, he thought he had everything he needed. He went over to the cashier. The items added up fast, surprisingly fast.

Shaking his head, he reviewed the receipt, but it was accurate.

Putting the groceries into a cab, he went back to the flat.

He was greeted by Maggie at the door, looking a little frazzled. "John, come on in. I'm almost done with the girls' baths."

Going into the kitchen while she went back to the bathroom, he unloaded the grocery bags and got out a cutting board, knives, and a frying pan. Everything was ready.

While he waited, he took some pictures with his mobile of the kitchen, the food, and stepped outside to get some pictures of the neighborhood. By the time he came back in, Maggie was in the kitchen.

She sighed. "It took forever for Louise to settle down tonight. I had to tell her three times that you were coming back tomorrow for dinner before she believed me."

John chuckled, and handed her an apron. She washed her hands and they prepped all the vegetables and got chopping, chatting as they went.

"So, I got a cheap cut of beef. It will get really tender cooking it this way." John unwrapped it, cubing it and rolling it in flour and seasonings.

Maggie put some oil in the fry pan, and lightly browned the meat in batches, transferring it into a large dish. The celery, onions and garlic were next, until they began to soften, and then John passed her tomato paste and red wine. The mixture was poured over the meat and left to cool. They added some other seasonings to it.

Taking a piece of foil, John put the potatoes, carrots and some other root vegetables they had chopped up in the center, and made it into a tight packet.

"So, that is basically it. In the morning, you just need to put the meat mixture into the slow cooker, stir some corn flour into the beef broth to pour over it all, and nestle this package on top of the stew. Turn it on low."

Maggie put everything into the fridge, and looked at the clock. "That didn't take too long."

They quickly tidied the kitchen and did the dishes, chatting easily.

John got out some cheese and crackers he had purchased. "We still have a lot of wine left that didn't go into the stew."

Maggie grabbed a couple glasses. "Well, it would be a shame to waste it, wouldn't it?"

They settled in the living room, turning on the telly and relaxing. Maggie had a great sense of humor that got even better after the first glass of wine.

John sighed. "I'm surprised you bought my cookbook, actually, or that you follow my blog. I was walking around the grocery store and things are pretty expensive. The ingredients in many of my recipes are too pricey."

She shrugged. "I'm pretty good at adapting recipes for less expensive ingredients. Dried herbs instead of fresh. Frozen vegetables more."

"My friend Maria in LA is a single mother too, and she told me the cookbook didn't fit her lifestyle that well. And produce is even cheaper in California." John said. "So, it is obviously a concern many places."

Maggie poured out the last of the wine. "The government thinks we can feed a family of four on £100 a week. I just need to do it in a way that is healthy, not crappy food."

John pulled out his phone to use the calculator. "That's like $600 a month!"

They kept talking until Maggie's bedtime. John ended up walking back to the hotel, since it wasn't that far. He was coming back the next night to eat dinner with the family, to see how the meal turned out, to see how they liked it.

The cool February air helped clear his head. Coventry was lovely, but there were a lot of poor areas.

It was very different than his time in Chicago with Peter, the other contest winner. He was a gay man in his early 50s, with a great paying job and tons of disposable income. They had shopped together at the best food markets, spending more on some balsamic vinegar than John had on all the groceries for Maggie's meal. Peter was a foodie, and it had been fun to get creative with him, picking out what was in season.

He was interested in healthy, tasty food that worked well for a busy, single person. Many of the recipes in John's book worked well for him already.

XXX

John felt relieved as the train pulled into Euston station. It was dark out, but things felt familiar. It was good to be back in London after travelling so much.

Normally, he would crash at Harry's, but she had just moved in with her fiancée. They didn't have much extra room. He pulled out the print out of the email Hazel had sent him with his hotel address, and passed it to his cabbie.

Soon, soon, he could just crash in a big comfy bed, and sleep for a week. Order room service and watch crap telly. Not talk to anyone at all. _Ahhhhhh Bliss._

He was happy with how the book tour had gone, of course. Having dinner tonight with Maggie and her two girls had really been a perfect ending to it all. The stew had turned out great, just mixing in the vegetables from the foil packet at the end. The method had cooked them well, but they still had a nice texture and flavor. Even the girls had eaten big bowls of the stew, and they had plenty for leftovers.

He felt tired, and he knew a big part of it was not really knowing what he was doing next. Some quiet time in the hotel would help him sort it out, and figure out his next steps. The next chapter in his life.

The other big part was Sherlock. Funny how they hadn't been together often since September, but John still missed him so much. Before, he had always known when he would see him next, and he could at least cling on to that. Now, he probably wouldn't see him until he was back in London in the summer.

How strange would it be, calling him to go out for dinner or a drink? Would they just be able to hang out together as mates? John sighed. He needed to get on with his life, and stop thinking about Sherlock.

The cab stopped, and John got out, grabbing his suitcase. It was only after he paid the driver that he looked around. There were no hotels in the area.

"Wait! This isn't the right address!" John said to the driver.

The driver shrugged, shoving the email back at John. "It is the address on here."

The cab pulled away while John was trying to read it in the dim light. Stepping closer to a streetlight, he could see better.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" John couldn't believe Hazel had done that. He had specifically asked her to book him into a hotel.

It was starting to rain, and John sighed in defeat. _Fuck it._ It was late, he was tired, and he didn't want to wait around for another cab. He could stay here for the night, and leave first thing in the morning. Find his own fucking hotel.

Hauling his suitcase into the lobby of the building, he went to the security desk. "Hi. I'm John Watson. I believe there are some keys left here for me."

The guard checked his identification and had him sign a form before he passed over an envelope. Hazel's writing flowed across the outside. **John, Sherlock said you are welcome to stay as long as you want.**

Fishing out the keys, John shoved them into his pocket, and threw away the envelope. Obviously Sherlock hadn't told Hazel that the fake relationship was over, so John would have to tell her tomorrow. It was just like Sherlock to do this, still trying to help John in getting established, even though he had already turned down the offer.

With a sigh, he took the familiar lift up, thinking of the three months last year that he had lived here. Rushing off to school weekdays, relaxing with Sherlock on the weekends, going on their fake dates. It had been a good time. Good memories. Just one last night here, then he would be gone. John let out a deep breath. He could handle this.

Unlocking the door, he was surprised to find some lights on. Had Hazel been by to check the flat, and forgot to turn them off?

Setting his suitcase down by the door, John took off his coat and shoes, and walked further into the flat.

Coming around the corner, he saw the dining room table was set for two.

He froze in place. No, it couldn't be...

There was a creak of a floorboard, and then Sherlock stepped from the hallway.

"What the hell are you doing here? You are supposed to be in LA, writing!" John's tired brain couldn't make sense of this. It was crazy.

"John, John..." Sherlock held out his hands in a calming manner, walking slowly towards him. "Come, sit and have a drink with me. We need to talk."

Shaking his head, John walked over to the big leather sofa and sat down. Sherlock already had two glasses of red poured out, but John eyed his glass distrustfully. He knew what happened when he drank around Sherlock.

"Why are you here? Why aren't you working on your book in LA?" John finally asked, when Sherlock sat on the other end, not saying anything.

Sherlock sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. "I have writer's block. I haven't written more than ten pages this year. I can't seem to concentrate." He huffed, and looked at John.

He did look very tired. Usually he looked well rested and healthy, eating good meals and exercising lots when he was in California. Had he looked like this on the TV show? John had been too caught up in everything then to notice either way.

John shrugged. "It happens, doesn't it? Don't most writers have times they can't write?"

Sherlock jumped up, pacing back and forth. "Not for me. I have my system, and it's been working for ten years. Now, I just stare at my laptop and nothing comes out. I end up snapping a lot at my assistant."

"Well, I'm glad I'm not there, then. I'd quit pretty quick if you were doing that to me." John crossed his legs, watching Sherlock walking around.

He stopped and faced John. "My assistant did quit, and it made things even worse."

John's eyebrows rose. "Well, if this is your weird way of asking me to be your assistant again, save yourself the trouble. I don't currently have a job, but I've got my own career to establish. Hire another assistant."

"This isn't about the fucking assistant job, John." Sherlock said with a sigh. "I miss you."

"Sherlock, we are still friends. You can call or text me. I only ended the fake relationship." John corrected.

"Yes, so now that you are free from me, you can date whoever you want. Who are you interested in? That guy in Chicago? The woman in Coventry? One of your friends in New York? Your friend in LA?" Sherlock was talking so fast, it was hard for John to catch it all.

John sighed. "Sherlock, just because I identify as pansexual doesn't make me promiscuous. Just because I'm attracted to all kinds of people, it doesn't mean I'm attracted to ALL people."

Sherlock arched an eyebrow at him, and took a long sip of his wine.

"It's been hard enough trying to have a fake relationship with you, how could I handle a real one right now? I'm not looking to date anyone." John gave a small laugh at the thought. "I'm traveling too much, trying to establish my career, doing whatever I need to. It has to be my focus at this stage of my life."

Sherlock sat down close to John. "Let me ask you something, John. And think about it before you answer." His eyes were such a teal shade in this light, intense on his.

John was feeling really tired, and just wanted to go to bed. But he knew Sherlock well enough to know he had to get everything off his chest before he'd let John go to sleep. "Fine. Ask away."

He looked into John's eyes intensely. "What if we stay together while you do your work? Stay here when you need to be in London, or stay at the house in LA. Find other accommodation if you are somewhere else."

It was crazy. Crazy. "You want to move around to wherever I go? You somehow think that it will make you able to write again?" John couldn't make sense of the logic.

"I can write anywhere. Every city has a police force I can do research with." Sherlock said calmly.

"Sherlock, look..." John shifted away on the sofa. "Your writing isn't going well so you have somehow convinced yourself it's because you need to be with me. But think back to last year. I was only your assistant when you wrote the last book. We weren't even friends yet. I think you should get Hazel to get you a new assistant and give it another go."

"Why do you have such a hard time believing I want to be with you? That I care about you?" Sherlock huffed in frustration. "Haven't you realized the lengths I have already gone to keep us together? The whole fake boyfriend thing was my idea."

"What?!" John could have been knocked over with a feather, hearing that.

Sherlock gave a self-deprecating grin. "You know things changed between us on that trip to New York. It broke me out of my routines, and made me take a good hard look at the man I saw everyday. I often say people look but don't see, but it rarely happens to me."

John nodded. Yes, things had definitely changed between them on that trip. They moved from being co-workers to being friends.

"Your change fascinated me. Who were you? Had I missed other things about you beyond your appearance?" Sherlock looked closely at John, his eyes scanning all over his face.

John shifted away, uncomfortable under the intense look. He took the wine, and had a sip. "I don't think I've changed that much. I'm still me."

Sherlock got up, and walked over to the window, looking out into the wet darkness. He turned around, leaning back against the glass. "You were already starting to make plans, thinking about what you would do in July, and it suddenly became clear you would be gone soon. Just as I was starting to get to know you."

Taking another sip of the wine, John stopped objecting, just sitting still to hear more. He was remembering that they had started going to yoga classes, eating together more often back then.

"I needed more time to get to know you. See if this interest I had in you could grow into anything more." Sherlock took a small step closer. "I had shut myself off from my emotions so long after Victor, I really didn't know what I was feeling. And I had no idea how proceed."

John could feel his heart beat getting faster, as he watched Sherlock take another step closer. He couldn't look away from those beguiling eyes now.

"I organized it with Hazel, got her to tip off a photographer to take that picture after yoga that day. Got her to suggest being fake boyfriends, told her to offer the cooking school tuition if needed to get you to agree."

John just shook his head in disbelief. "You did all that? Why couldn't you just ask me out?"

"Do you remember how you reacted to the idea of our fake relationship? You laughed. You couldn't picture us together." Sherlock said softly, and John could tell now that he had been a bit hurt by that.

John gave a frustrated sigh. "It wasn't because I didn't like you, Sherlock. It was because I didn't think we were a good match. We come from very different worlds."

Sherlock nodded, taking another step. "But being fake boyfriends all these months has convinced you otherwise, hasn't it? Everyone accepts that we are a good couple. No one has ever said 'What are they doing together?'"

John tilted his head a bit to one side. "What about your brother?"

"Mycroft is paid to be suspicious of everyone and everything. Ignore him, as much as you are able." Sherlock shrugged dismissively.

He stopped a few feet away from John. "Look, I know it was strange, but the fake relationship showed that we are good together. You grew comfortable around the press. You have met my crazy family and friends, and they all like you. We get along well, even though I'm an asshole to most people."

John blinked a few times, and then got up. "Sherlock, there is more to a relationship than just getting along. I will never deny that we are good friends."

Sherlock took another step. "How about that I used any excuse I could to kiss you? I knew in public you wouldn't cause a scene, or push me away."

The slight roughness in his voice sent a twist of arousal through John, and he took a step closer. "We've kissed in private as well."

"But always under the influence. I never knew if I was just...convenient." Sherlock's eyes fell to John's lips, before meeting his again.

John took the last step, and their kiss was not rushed. They both leaned in, closing their eyes at the last minute. It was so different, the light touch, brushing their lips over each other's, before pushing closer. John's arms pulled Sherlock in, wanting his solid, warm body all along his own.

Sherlock pulled them to sit on the sofa, sharing kiss after kiss.

He finally pulled back. "So, are we going to try this? Being together?"

He looked so young and vulnerable, baring his emotions this way. Emotionally, he hadn't matured much after Victor left, closing that part of himself off. He wasn't experienced here like he was in the other areas of his life.

John kissed him lightly. "My feelings are such a mess. I'm so confused about all the things you said and did with me all these months. What was true, what was an act?"

Sherlock sighed. "Well, that is easy. Everything was true. It was me. I meant it all."

He said it simply, with no guile.

John searched in his memory. "So, when you kissed me at the movie premiere the first time...?"

"It was just because I had wanted to kiss you for ages, to see if we had any chemistry. I really couldn't resist. I wanted to kiss you more in the car on the way home, but didn't want to push my luck."

This was making John question everything since the Book Expo. "The night we watched 'Red Dwarf' and you got drunk?"

"I was a bit depressed, not knowing how to get you to like me, and wondering if we could ever be more than friends. The only other relationship I'd had was with Victor, and we mostly just watched 'Red Dwarf' and snogged." Sherlock shrugged.

John chuckled. "So, you thought if I watched Lister and Rimmer bickering, I'd suddenly feel the urge to make out?"

Sherlock pouted. "I suck at relationships."

"Do you remember what you said to me that night? When I helped you into your bed?" John asked with a smirk.

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock shook his head. "Do I want to know?"

"You asked me not to go and said we should have sex." John replied.

Sherlock covered his face with his hands. "Yeah, I'm so smooth." He put his hands down, and gave John a curious look. "The morning after we were in the club, you acted like nothing had happened. Like it meant nothing to you."

"I was confused about it. I had been attracted to you from when we met, and it grew with getting to know you better, but I couldn't really see how it could work with us." John didn't want to hurt Sherlock, but deep down it was how he felt.

Sherlock looked sad. "After Halloween, I was living here without you, doing my work with Lestrade, and it just felt so empty. I was following your blog, searching for anything on you online. You were so busy, I couldn't go back to New York and distract you. It was only when Hazel told me you would be alone for Christmas that I started to feel better. We pushed you to spend Christmas with me."

John ran a hand through his hair. "If you are so interested in me, why didn't you show it more during that week we were together?"

"A bunch of reasons. Mostly I wanted to make sure you knew the real me. I've been getting a lot of media attention lately because my book was a lot different than previous one, and being out with you. That's old news to them now, so I'll go back to being a small 'c' celebrity. I'm fine with that, but the way you kept asking about wearing tuxedos to red carpet events made me worry that you wanted to be with a big name, or chase fame yourself." Sherlock said, taking John's hand again.

John shook his head. "It's something I can do, if needed, but not something I like much. I did like talking with readers at the signings though. More direct feedback from real people."

That got an eye roll. "Your fans are a good mix of people. For me it's either 'stop me before I kill again' or 'my bedroom is just a taxi ride away'."

John thought back on the Q&A at the book expo, and all the adoring fans. "Is that your way of saying my fans aren't hot for my bod? I got a lot of cheers for the picture they showed on Tania Jenkins, wearing my fatigues."

Leaning in, Sherlock kissed his way up John's neck to his ear. "You need to send me a copy of that picture."

That low voice sent chills along his skin, and John turned his face to Sherlock, sharing a hot kiss. It was even better than the ones on New Year's Eve, hot lingering kisses, pressing closer to each other.

John broke away, a bit breathless, having a hard time resisting going in for more kisses with the way Sherlock was looking at him, his eyes darker and mischievous. He put a hand against his chest, holding him back. "Wait. What were the other reasons for how things were during Christmas?"

"You were preparing for your tour. Unselfishly, I didn't want to distract you from that. I wanted you ready and feeling mentally prepared for it all. And you did great."

"Selfishly, I didn't want to compromise by having to be quiet in my parents' house, both of us trying to fit on my old bed." Sherlock's gaze went to John's well-kissed lips. "When I properly make love to you, it will be when neither of us is flying off the next day to another country. In a big sturdy bed with high thread count sheets and down pillows. Soundproof walls. Days and days to worship you."

John swallowed hard at those words, unable to look away from Sherlock's eyes full of sinful promise. "Um, but we have had sex. Those three nights."

Shaking his head slowly, Sherlock shifted closer, and picked up John's hand to kiss his palm. "Those were the _hors d'oeuvres._ Barely anything. It will take days to get my fill of you." His eyes met John's as he bit gently into the heel of his hand.

Moving closer, they kissed, hard, both needing it so much. John got up, pulling Sherlock with him, wordlessly taking those few steps together into his bedroom. They stripped, watching each other as pieces of clothing dropped to the floor in the dark room. Both getting into the bed, joining in the middle to kiss and savor the feeling of being naked, skin against skin.

XXX

Sherlock shivered, reacting to John pressing a kiss to his chest. "Your kisses leave me tingling, wherever you plant them." He ran a hand through John's messy hair, looking at him with sated affection.

"'And leave you hungering for more?'" John rolled his eyes. "You know how many times I heard that during interviews and with fans?"

Grabbing a pillow, Sherlock put it behind his head. "Speaking of interviews, when Hazel told me about the Tania Jenkins show, I thought here was my chance. We could have a big reunion, and then I could bring you back home. Keep you there." Sherlock seemed so genuine in what he was saying.

"Keep me there...?" John's eyebrows rose at that. It didn't sound too bad, actually.

Sherlock huffed. "Instead you broke up with me and flew off to Chicago. It was so confusing after what you wrote in my book."

Shifting to look at him, John searched for what he meant in his expression. "The comment about trifle?"

"The way you subtly referenced the lyrics of the song that was playing when you first kissed me." Sherlock said with a smile.

John drew his brows down, trying to remember what he wrote. He couldn't remember what song had been playing in the club when they kissed. He had been too focused on Sherlock to pay attention.

Sherlock huffed impatiently. "You wrote, _'To Sherlock – You like to think that you're immune to the stuff… but I know the truth...'"._

At John's continued confused look, Sherlock sat right up in the bed. "Oh my God. You didn't mean it that way at all. I took it for confirmation of your feelings for me, and you were just making a joke about trifle."

He looked like he was about to leave the bed, stomp off in a huff. John lunged across him, pushing him back down on the bed. Although Sherlock was taller, John was stronger, and better at fighting. He soon had Sherlock pinned, both breathing hard from the scuffle.

John couldn't hold back a playful grin as he looked down at Sherlock's flashing eyes, and leaned in to kiss him lightly. "What song lyrics?"

Sherlock looked very irritated. "Remember they were playing a lot of disco and 80's music that night. _You like to think you're immune to the stuff..."_

".. _.It's closer to the truth to say you can't get enough. You know you're gonna have to face it, You're addicted to love."_ John finished, a look of wonder on his face. He could remember the old Robert Palmer song playing now, the heavy drum beat as they danced. "You thought I..."

"Look, I've already admitted I suck at relationships. I've flown ten hours because I built up everything in my mind, on those very shaky foundations." Sherlock sighed. "Let me up, John. I'll go sleep in the other bedroom. I'll leave tomorrow."

John stole a quick kiss. "You promised 'days and days of worshipping' me. I plan to hold you to that." He kissed his way down Sherlock's neck, sucking at a particularly appealing section until he heard a soft moan, and a hand sliding down his back.

XXX

"You keep distracting me with sex." Sherlock drawled the next morning, cuddling in the sunny bedroom.

John smiled. He had slept so well, and felt more like himself. "Is that just a statement or a complaint?"

Sherlock's eyes caught and held John's. "A statement. We talked for ages yesterday, and never really got things resolved."

"What do you want to know?" He felt relaxed, stretching out along the bed.

Sherlock looked wonderfully debauched. His hair was a mess, he had whisker burn, and more than one red mark on that pale perfect skin. John liked seeing him like this.

Bending his knees, Sherlock draped his long arms over them. The sheet pooled around his waist, leaving his chest bare. "There is something between us, John, a spark that I don't think has died. At least on my side it hasn't, despite you ending things eight days ago."

"Did you really mean what you said yesterday? That you want to write wherever I am?" John felt unsure how this would all work. Would they be happy, living like that? Would Sherlock be able to write, being moved around so much?

Sherlock reached over, taking John's hand in his. "You alone have brought me to London. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood how much I want to be with you?"

John gave a small half-smile. "You know I won't be acting like your assistant if we do this. I won't be cooking for you very often."

That got a bit of an eye-roll. "I can find assistants wherever we go. I can't replace you, John."

Thinking about it, John could see the benefits. They could live together in London or LA, or stay in hotels. Work when they needed to. Support each other at events. Visit with their friends in various cities. Sleep in the same bed, and share their downtimes.

What were the drawbacks? Sherlock said he could work anywhere, as long as John was near, but this was untested. What if his writer's block was just as bad here? It would be awful to try living together, grow more attached, and then have Sherlock unsatisfied because he struggled with his writing. Would the stress of moving around be hard on their relationship?

Deep down, he couldn't stop how excited he felt about the idea. That Sherlock cared enough about him, wanted to be with him so much, that he was willing to change his whole life around. It showed how deep his feelings were. He wouldn't do it just to be with a friend, or for good sex. It made John feel things he hadn't thought possible before.

John turned to face Sherlock, a small smile on his lips. "I want to try this with you, Sherlock. We will both need to be open to changing things as we work out what works best, but the idea of sharing a bed with you, sharing our lives..." He smiled wider. "It sounds incredible. I'm amazed that you are willing to do so much to be with me."

Sherlock beamed as he scooted closer, gathering John into a hard hug, and then kissing him again and again. "You won't regret it, John. We will have our challenges but we will work them out."

"I think I'm falling in love with you." John confessed, feeling both excited and scared.

Sherlock's eyes simply glowed with happiness. "I know I love you, John. You've been haunting my thoughts every day for months, and I just don't feel right if you are far away."

John kissed his boyfriend; sweet, loving kisses. Unrushed, long kisses. His hand dragged through Sherlock's curls.

 _"Trichophilia."_ Sherlock murmured, as John kissed down his throat.

With a chuckle, John pulled back. "What did you say?"

Sherlock smirked. _"Trichophilia._ It means you are turned on by hair."

With a scoff, John rolled over to grab his phone, and looked up triumphantly after a minute. "Well, you're a _sitophiliac."_

"Turned on by food? Well, maybe your food." Sherlock searched on his own phone. " _Chronophilic..._ yes, I think so."

John playfully glared at Sherlock. "I know 'chrono-' refers to time or age. So are you implying I'm old?"

Sherlock smirked. "Into me because I'm so much younger."

Rolling his eyes, John searched again with his phone. "Hmmm! How about _Hybristophilia_ for you? You spend most of your time researching or writing about crime."

 _"Objectophilic."_ Sherlock said, setting his phone down and gathering John back into his arms. "You really looked at those copper pans with lustful intent."

John kissed along Sherlock's jaw, relishing the slight scratch from his whiskers. "I'll cop to the hair one only." He pushed a hand deep into Sherlock's hair, and clenched his hand into a loose fist, pulling his head back to reveal his throat.

Sherlock moaned, the sound vibrating against John's lips as he kissed downwards.

The sound sent a possessive surge through John. It was only now sinking in what they were embarking on. "Who do you belong to?" He punctuated the question with a little tug on Sherlock's hair, and a nip on his skin.

A shudder ran over Sherlock. "You. Completely yours."

"That's right. You're mine. Whose bed will you be sleeping in from now on, every night?" John asked, his voice a little scratchier.

Sherlock's eyes met his, heavy-lidded and lascivious. Clearly very affected by John's words and actions. "Yours. Only yours."

And with his mouth and hands, he laid claim to his man. Ruined him for the touch of anyone else. Was only satisfied when Sherlock gasped out his name, shuddering with pleasure.

XXX

-A/N: Thanks for reading this fic! Your support means a lot to me. I may write an epilogue chapter.

-Slow Cookers: John's English contest winner, Maggie, is a single mom with not a lot of time or money. They do a recipe with a slow cooker. Personally, I find them convenient, but sometimes the vegetables come out mushy, and lose flavour. I'll have to try the foil package method next time.

-Addicted to Love: Robert Palmer released this song in 1986. "The video features Palmer performing the song with an abstract "band", being a group of female models whose pale skin, heavy makeup, dark hair and seductive, rather mannequin-like expression." (Wikipedia).


	15. Epilogue

Warning: This is pretty long & a bit shmoopy at times.

XXX

John woke to silver-green eyes, and smiled. Blinking sleepily, he rolled over to his other side. "Were you watching me as I slept again?"

Arms encircled him, pulling him back against a warm chest, and lips brushed along his nape, leaving bursts of sensation in their wake. "Not really. I was contemplating how many kisses I could give you until you woke up."

"So, I spoiled your fun?" John was feeling more aroused as Sherlock shifted closer, rubbing against John's ass.

Hands pushed John's loose tee upwards to play over his bare skin. "Mmmmm." The low hum of agreement was against John's upper back, and those full lips were heading downwards. "You'll have to make it up to me."

Pushing his hips back for better contact, John took one of Sherlock's hands in his, and brought it up to his mouth. Kissing one finger, he then took it between his lips to suck and tease with little licks. A gasp, and Sherlock pushing closer along his back was a satisfying response. "What did you have in mind?"

Rolling John onto his back, Sherlock settled over him, and dipped down for a slow, raunchy kiss.

Weekend mornings were often like this. Time to sleep in, and indulge in lazy morning sex. John loved the soft morning light that made Sherlock's skin glow as it was exposed, laid out so beautifully across the covers. He couldn't resist touching and tasting, exploring like they were new lovers, instead of ones who had shared a bed for the last half year.

Sherlock reached over into the bedside table, fumbling for the lube.

John put a hand on his arm, stilling him. He glanced at the clock. "I'm sorry, I don't think I'll have time for that. I need to hop in the shower soon."

Groaning, Sherlock rolled off John, stretching out on his back. "But it's Saturday." There was a bit of a whine in his tone.

John kissed down his chest. "I'm meeting the guys for lunch. You know it's been hard seeing them with my class schedule."

Sherlock didn't seem mollified by that.

Moving his hand lower, John stroked slowly until Sherlock was arching into his touch. He pressed a kiss to his stomach. "A little now, and a lot later?" A teasing flick of his tongue helped his side of the argument.

Pushing his hand into John's hair, Sherlock tugged him a little closer. "You'll really have to work hard to make it up to me."

With a grin, John kissed, licked and sucked, loving the feel of Sherlock's hand on his head, guiding, urging. Reaching down, he pushed into his own fist, groaning around Sherlock. It was hot, and fast. A good way to wake up fully.

He left Sherlock sated and snoozing, with a quick kiss before he pulled the covers over him.

XXX

John bit into the sandwich, and melted cheese threatened to ooze out. Lowering it back to his plate, he grabbed his napkin as he chewed, and wiped his lips. The toastie was a perfect mix of crunchy-chewy sourdough bread, good cheese, and onion. He took a bite of pickle afterwards, the crisp tartness complimenting the meal.

"Told you that you would like this place." Mike smiled over at John. He was enjoying a salad with roasted carrots, beetroot, and goat cheese.

The restaurant had a laid back atmosphere, with big sunny windows and lots of potted plants adding greenery. There were simple tables and chairs, but also areas set up more like a living room, with sofas and club chairs around a low coffee table.

Alex sat down on the sofa next to John, with a large bowl of soup. "I swear Mike knows all the restaurants for a 10 kilometer radius." It was still a little jarring seeing him with longer hair, and silver strands among the black. John was used to him with a short, military haircut.

"Thanks for inviting me along, John." Andy said, his smile genuine.

John took a sip of his lager. "Well, we've hung out enough times that I knew you'd have a lot in common with Alex and Mike."

Over the lunch, the men discussed their time in the military. Alex had been in John's unit, often operating Mastiffs together in Afghanistan. Mike was an army doctor John had hit it off with while recovering from his injury. Andy was in the infantry, and got to know John through his blog.

"How did you hear about this place?" John asked Mike, putting his napkin down on his empty plate.

Mike shrugged. "I work at a surgery a few blocks away, on Shore Road. This is always a good, cheap meal."

"Well, getting a meal like that for under £15 is pretty amazing. I'm on a tight budget these days." Andy admitted.

John shot him a concerned glance. "Still not finding steady work?"

Andy shook his head. "Just temp jobs, a week or two here and there. It's been like this for a couple years. So frustrating."

Looking at his friends, John just shook his head. Mike had been able to find work as a doctor after leaving the service, but the rest of them had struggled. He was lucky he had taken the assistant job, and gotten training in cooking.

"Aren't you finishing your last course soon, John?" Alex asked.

He nodded, feeling pleased. "Yes, by the end of the month, I'll have my diploma." It had been good taking these three months, like he had last year, to go back to his cooking school. This time, he could afford to pay the tuition himself, thanks to the book sales.

Mike clapped him on the back, pride on his face. "So, what are you going to do next?"

Taking another sip of his lager, John shrugged. "Well, Sherlock is going on tour in October and I'm going with him."

It was a little scary, but still exciting. It was the first time they were trying this, but the idea of being apart for so many weeks was too hard to bear. John was a little nervous that they would both be tired from all the traveling and Sherlock having to be 'on' for all his interviews and events. Would that result in more arguments?

"Hazel has organized some events for me, so I will be able to see readers. I love interacting with real people. That's how I got to know Andy." He sent him a friendly glance.

Knowing he would have his own work to do during the tour made John feel better. They would travel together, sleep in the same bed, but spend the days doing their own work. It was basically what they had been doing since February, and it had been working well for them so far. This would just involve flying to a new city every day or two.

"And after that?" Alex asked.

"My second book comes out in January, so I'll do a book tour for it then. I finished working on it in June. Even the food photography is done." John shrugged again. "Not really sure what I'll do yet in November and December. Maybe pick up work in a restaurant."

Andy had finished his drink. "Well, at least you have your training now to fall back on, no matter what happens with the books. I wish I had the money to go back to school."

John nodded. A year ago, he was in a similar boat. The assistant job was ending and he wasn't sure where he could find another job. He was only self-trained in cooking. Having Sherlock cover the tuition last summer had given him the boost he needed to have his career now.

Alex crossed his legs, his dark eyes narrowing a little as he focused on John. "Have you ever thought of opening your own restaurant?"

John recognized the expression on his old friend. Alex was a very smart man, good at strategy and planning. He was always the guy who worked best with their commanders, and handled any reports. A very analytical mind.

John chuckled at the idea. "Maybe eventually. I don't have that much experience with them yet."

Alex was scanning around the restaurant, his eyes assessing. "Well, what about a place like this. It is casual and the menu is pretty simple. Good, cheap, simple food. Mostly sandwiches, soups and salads. Would it be hard to run?"

John looked around, seeing it through the prism of his training. "No, the food wouldn't be difficult. But it's a lot of work; cleaning, cooking, doing the food prep."

Andy sat up a little straighter. "Well, if you need any help, you know where to find me. I have no official training, but I like cooking." He chuckled, running a hand along his buzz-cut hair.

John found himself nodding along as more and more ideas got thrown around, all the men giving suggestions

XXX

The water felt great when John dove in, immediately going into a fast crawl. The rhythmic motions always had a calming effect on him, just letting the outside world fall away as he focused on moving quickly through the water. Lap after lap he did easily, switching to different strokes, getting his heart rate up to a good level.

There was a big splash nearby, and John stopped to tread water. "Stupid berk." He grumbled, glaring at the man who had disturbed his swim.

The man swam right up to him, slicking his dark, wet hair straight back on his head. His gorgeous eyes seemed huge as they looked at John with affection. " _Your_ stupid berk."

Nodding, John gathered him close. "My stupid berk."

Sherlock's lips were cold and wet at first, but quickly warmed up as they continued. John had a hand bracing himself on the side of the pool, the other around Sherlock, and it really wasn't the best position.

He broke away with a laugh. "Hotel pools aren't the best places for snogging."

"You may have a point there." Sherlock agreed, his hand sliding down into John's swim trunks to squeeze his ass.

John pulled away, disengaging from the overly familiar touch. "Not a good place for that either."

Sherlock nodded. "I suppose we have a perfectly good king sized bed up in our room for both activities."

"Are you sure you wouldn't just prefer a nap before we go out tonight?" It was the last city on the book tour, and they were both a little worn out.

Sherlock stole another few kisses. "Maybe we have time for both."

John was happy to see Sherlock in such a good mood. It had been a hard month, traveling so much, doing interviews for TV shows, radio programs, newspapers, blogs. Holding book signings in the evenings. At least they had a week to relax after tonight's event before they went back to London.

Climbing out of the pool, John toweled off, not minding at all the way his boyfriend watched his every move. He had remained at a good weight, swimming many times a week and going to yoga with Sherlock. They ate healthy 95% of the time, either at home or when they went out. He felt comfortable with himself now.

"I'll go up to have a shower and order us some dinner. Come up when you are done your swim." John said, draping the towel around his neck as he pulled on the hotel bathrobe.

Sherlock agreed, and turned to swim down the pool. John watched for a few moments, a small smile on his lips.

In the elevator, he felt really good. It was a relief that the tour was almost done now, and that being together for it had worked so well.

John only had a few scheduled events, so he had time to explore a little on his own. He had followers of his blog that had become friends in many cities, and he asked them to take him out for lunch in interesting, inexpensive restaurants. He loved the regional variations on things like a simple grilled cheese sandwich.

In the evenings, He usually showed up towards the end of Sherlock's signing, hanging back out of the limelight. He liked watching Sherlock interacting with his fans, smiling and joking with them. Sometimes talking intensely about a plot point or forensic detail.

When the event was over, he took Sherlock out for a late dinner, somewhere quiet and dark, where they could unwind over great food and some wine. They would cuddle in the taxi on the way to the hotel, sharing their day, talking it all out. Back in their room, sometimes it was hot and desperate, built up from a day of sexting when Sherlock had been bored. Other nights it was sweet and slow, with long, lingering caresses. Sometimes, they fell asleep exhausted, but woke each other up with sleepy morning kisses.

The deli around the corner had just delivered the salads and sandwiches when Sherlock got back to the suite. John stashed the food in the fridge as Sherlock went into the shower.

Checking over their clothes for later, John nodded in satisfaction. Everything was ready.

"John, I need your help in here." Sherlock called out from the bathroom.

Chuckling, John opened the door and peaked into the steamy room. "Oh really?"

The glass shower door opened. "Yes, get in."

Slipping out of his bathrobe, John didn't mind stepping back into the shower, since a wet, naked Sherlock was in there.

He smirked at his boyfriend, running a hand down his wet chest. "What's the problem? Your cock can't suck itself?"

Sherlock laughed, his eyes playful. "I was just thinking maybe you could shampoo my hair. I love when you massage my scalp."

John couldn't resist the request. He loved doing that, working the lather in as his fingers rubbed in firm circles, Sherlock tilting his head back and groaning at the sensations. He grabbed the shampoo bottle and put some on his palm.

"Wait, I'll make this a little easier for you." Sherlock said as John was reaching up towards his hair.

Before John could say anything, Sherlock was kneeling in front of him. Luckily, it was a roomy shower, with the rain showerhead right in the center of the ceiling, with warm water pouring over both of them.

Having Sherlock in that position was very suggestive of other highly pleasurable times, and John felt his own reaction. Playing along, he rubbed the shampoo into Sherlock's hair, working it in and massaging down into his scalp.

Sherlock closed his eyes, giving a pleased moan. The sound made John feel even more aroused, clenching his hands in his hair.

Opening his eyes, Sherlock gave him a heated yet playful look, and leaned in. His lips and mouth soon had John moaning, closing his eyes and tilting his head back, the water going down his whole body. His hands were still buried in Sherlock's wet hair, the shampoo mostly rinsed away now.

A little later, John was leaning against the tiled wall, trying to catch his breath, when Sherlock stood back up with a pleased smile on his face. Stepping forward, he pressed Sherlock against the wall to give him a deep kiss.

"Dry off and get into bed." John ordered, loving the way Sherlock's eyes sparked in arousal at the rough tones.

Soon, they were lying together on the crisp, white sheets, John grabbing the lube as he kissed down Sherlock's spine.

XXX

"And returning to our stage as our guest judges, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson!" The MC was dressed as The Mad Hatter this year, with lots of makeup and a red wig peeping out under his large hat.

John chuckled as they took the stairs up to the stage. He worked the costume, pulling out his phaser and pretending to shoot various people on the stage, who played along and feigned injuries. Sherlock stood off to the side, fussing around with his tricorder to scan the crowd. The audience was laughing and cheering them on.

The Mad Hatter laughed. "Great costumes, guys. John, you competed last year, and were disqualified."

John nodded, putting his phaser back in place at his waist. "That's right. For sleeping with the judge."

The admission got some laughs.

"Are you still sleeping with the judge?" The MC asked, working the crowd.

"Well, yes, but I don't think there's a rule against the judges sleeping together." John gave a wicked grin.

Everyone cheered, a drunken happy crowd.

"Sherlock, you are dressed as Spock. Do you know any of his lines?" The MC pointed the microphone his way with a grin.

Arching an eyebrow, Sherlock drawled "If you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the solution."

The MC nodded with a wide grin. "Good! And can you do the Vulcan salute?" He held up his hand, with a gap between his middle and ring fingers.

Sherlock lifted his hand, effortlessly doing the salute back. "Live long and prosper."

The audience loved it, cheering wildly.

"Hold on a second..." The Mad Hatter's gaze sharpened and he grabbed Sherlock's hand. "You are wearing a gold ring now. Are you two married?" He glanced between Sherlock and John, a look of pure delight on his face.

John cringed slightly and gave Sherlock an apologetic face. This wasn't how they wanted to go public with this. He ran his hand through his hair. "Um, yeah...we just got engaged."

The Mad Hatter grabbed John's hand, and held it in the air, doing the same with Sherlock's on the other side. The crowds' cheers were almost deafening.

"You heard it here first!" The MC dropped their hands. "Well, let's go ahead with the contest..."

John couldn't help turning his head to catch Sherlock's gaze, sharing a small private smile as the MC explained the contest rules.

XXX

***TWO HOURS EARLIER***

After dressing in the costumes, they had put on coats and walked south from their hotel. Their route took them through Greenwich Village, and the huge Halloween parade. They had some time before they needed to be at the hall to enjoy the city.

Thousands of people lined the streets, watching as the parade went by. Everywhere, people were wearing costumes and having a great time. John loved the huge skeleton stick puppets that towered above the crowds. Loved the dozen women in Day of the Dead makeup, carrying large drums, and playing in perfect unison as they marched down the street. Loved the huge group of people dressed like zombies, dancing in sync to Michael Jackson's Thriller.

It was a crazy, mad energy swirling around them, and John walked through it all with Sherlock, feeling happy and a part of it all.

They walked out of the Village, and eventually ended up on the much quieter Brooklyn Bridge. The promenade had only a few other people walking on it.

John pulled Sherlock to sit on one of the benches. He felt nervous, as Sherlock gave him a questioning look.

Taking his hand, John swallowed hard, and held his gaze. "Sherlock, we have known each other for over a year and a half, and have lived together for most of that time. It hasn't been easy, trying to make our relationship work with all the travel we need to do for work."

Sherlock's eyes widened. "Are you going to break up with me? John, I thought things had been going well."

Shaking his head, John leaned in to quickly kiss Sherlock. "No, no...that's not what I'm trying to say at all. Please let me finish."

Nodding, Sherlock quieted down.

Taking another deep breath, John continued. "I've woken up in dozens of different beds, in three different countries, and they all feel like home to me, because you were beside me. Each time you kiss me good morning, I fall a little more in love with you."

"Oh, so definitely not breaking up with me." Sherlock smiled, his eyes warm at John's heartfelt words.

John reached into his coat pocket. "Quite the opposite." He couldn't help but give a nervous, excited smile as he opened the box, showing a simple gold ring inside. "Sherlock, I love you so much."

Sherlock seemed a little stunned. "You love me?" His eyes were only on John's, not even looking at the ring.

It took a second, and John nodded. "Yes, of course I love you."

"You've never said it before. I wasn't sure if you did..." Sherlock was fumbling, trying to find the right words. A little speechless.

John shook his head fondly at the man. He was so inexperienced with relationships, it still caused them problems occasionally. John found he had to be patient, give Sherlock time to work things out.

"It took me a while, but seeing how willing you were to write wherever we were... it meant a lot to me." John said.

Sherlock gave a half-smile. "It meant a lot to me that you moved your schedule to be in London for school and that you came on the book tour. It was the best one I've ever had, thanks to you."

John gave him another light kiss. The tension was getting to him though. "What do you think about this?" He lifted the ring box again.

Looking down at it, Sherlock tilted his face to the side a little. "You say you love me and want to give me jewelry. So, if I accept it, does that mean we are going steady?"

John's eyebrows shot up. He reviewed the words he had used, and knew he had to be more clear. "I'm asking you to be my husband, Sherlock. Saying that I love you, truly, madly love you, and I want to live with you for the rest of our lives. Share our lives in every way possible."

It took a little while for Sherlock to process all of that, but slowly he began to smile. "That sounds rather nice."

Trying not to laugh or shake his head again, John gave Sherlock's hand a squeeze. "So, will you marry me? You need to say yes or no."

"Oh! Well, yes then. Of course." Sherlock said, seeming a little bemused by the process.

Taking out the ring, John put the box back in his pocket. "This is an engagement ring. Will you wear it? Show the world we are engaged?" He wasn't taking anything for granted, spelling everything out.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and plucked the ring from John. He slid it onto his finger, looking at it for a few long moments.

"Good?" John asked softly, never quite sure what Sherlock was thinking in emotional situations. He often zigged when others would zag.

When Sherlock lifted his eyes to meet John's, he could see that Sherlock was really moved by having John's ring on his finger. He nodded.

John gathered him close, and kissed him, slowly, with every emotion he had for this unusual man. "I love you so much, you nutter."

Sherlock let out a half-laugh. "I love you too, John."

After another ten minutes of kisses, John pulled Sherlock along towards the hall.

"So, was being dressed as Kirk and Spock an essential part of your proposal, John?" Sherlock asked as they walked down the street, holding hands.

"Are you asking if I'm a closet Trekker? If I find cosplay a big turn on?" John chuckled. "Will you still marry me if I said I did?"

Sherlock took a minute to answer. "I would have to know more about it. But if you expect me to act like a Vulcan, I would want sex more often than every seven years."

John just stared at Sherlock for a moment. And then they both burst out laughing.

XXX

The costume contest whizzed by. Marcus and Jessica were crowd favorites, so Sherlock and John didn't feel it was unfair to give their friends first place.

Marcus was dressed as Jon Snow, in his Lord Commander black fur cape. His black leather tunic was spoiled by all the knives sticking out of his chest, stage blood all around them. Makeup made his face pale.

Jessica stole the show as Daenerys, her white blond wig in elaborate braids and wearing a long, turquoise cape. Pulling the cape open in front of the audience, she revealed she was only wearing a nude body stocking. Plush versions of her baby dragons were crawling over her body, the gold one's wings covering her crotch, the green one covering her breasts, and the black one perched on her shoulder with his tail wrapped around her neck. She was smudged everywhere with soot and ash, her face defiant and proud.

"This is the second female friend of yours that has flashed you. Is this a common occurrence in your circle?" Sherlock murmured in John's ear as Jessica winked at him.

John just gave him a cheeky grin in return.

Marcus, Jessica and a lot of people at the party helped them celebrate, until eventually John and Sherlock could escape.

XXX

 _"Salaam a eleikum."_ John said, sing-songing over the line.

Harry replied. _"Eleikum a salaam'"_

John couldn't hold back his grin. "I'm Engaged!"

"With who?" Harry grinned back.

Glad the internet connection was good and he could share his news over Skype, John just shook his head at her teasing. "Be nice. He'll be your brother-in-law soon."

"He practically is already. You two are together a rather disgusting amount of the time." Harry bugged him good-naturedly.

John huffed. "You are the one who pushed me to take the damn job."

Harry rolled her eyes. "Yeah! And now look at you; a professional chef, a published author, rich, and famous. A jet setter, hopping over the Pond with your fabulous boyfriend at the spur of the moment."

"I can see you are doing well with your drama classes." John laughed. But what she said was basically true. He was somewhat well known now, mostly thanks to the appearances with Sherlock. He had some money from the book sales and ad revenue on his blog. With any luck, the next book would do even better. "And you have to call Sherlock my fiancé now."

Harry nodded, her gaze fond. "So, have you talked about the wedding? When are you thinking of having it? Big? Small? In England, I hope? Although I wouldn't mind staying at that shack in LA for a few weeks."

Her questions were fast and overwhelming. "Whoa! Calm down, Bridezilla! You are already married. I doubt Sherlock wants anything that elaborate. We haven't talked about it yet."

"Well, your next book tour is in January, so you probably won't do anything until after that right? Maybe a spring wedding? Will you be working on another book then?" Harry was in a chatty mood.

John sighed. "Sherlock will be. I have to see how this next book does before I'll know. But something else is sticking around in my mind lately..."

"Ooooo tell me." Harry leaned closer to her laptop screen.

"Ok, but don't discuss this with anyone else. It's really just an idea right now." John took a deep breath. "I'm thinking about opening a small restaurant."

Harry was surprised. "Really? What kind of restaurant?"

John was glad to be able to discuss it. "Simple, healthy, inexpensive food. But the main idea is that all the staff would be vets."

"Vets?" Harry echoed, clearly confused.

"I did some research and many veterans have a hard time getting work when they return to civilian life." John explained.

Harry tilted her head a little to the side. "It's a noble idea, but is it practical? Will vets be good working in that setting."

"Any soldier who was in Afghanistan can handle working in the heat, under stress, and would take orders well." John smirked.

Taking a sip from a water bottle, Harry nodded. "Well, it's a neat concept. You should work on it."

The support was good to get. John had been collecting ideas for weeks. During the tour, he ate out a lot and took pictures of menus and restaurants, taking notes about what he liked and didn't like.

The next step would be bringing the idea to some possible partners. Alex would be great handling the business side of everything, and John could be the chef, handling the food. Maybe Andy could work with them as well, learning the ropes.

The big question would be Sherlock. If the restaurant was in London, would he be OK living in one spot while it got established?

XXX

"I have something to tell you two. Some news." Sherlock looked at his parents sitting close together, their faces filling the screen.

His father smiled. "Oh really?"

Swallowing first, Sherlock gave a tight smile. "Um, John and I are getting married."

"Oh! That's wonderful, Sherlock!" Mrs. Holmes grinned widely, her eyes crinkled up at the corner.

Mr. Holmes was just as excited. "This is fantastic. I do really like that chap. He's a good match for you, son."

There was a mumbled voice in the background. His parents glanced towards it.

His mother spoke to the person. "It's Sherlock. He's engaged now to John."

Mr. Holmes looked back at the screen. "Mycroft is visiting for a few days."

"Come give your congratulations to Sherlock on his big news." Mrs. Holmes urged Mycroft.

Sherlock just shook his head at the family drama.

Mycroft must have stepped closer, as Sherlock still couldn't see him, but could hear him clearly. "Two people who currently live together are about to attend church, have a party, go on a short holiday and then carry on living together. What's big about that?"

Mrs. Holmes gave an irritated shake of her head, and turned back towards the screen. "Just ignore your brother, dear. He's probably just jealous."

"Jealous!" There was an indignant snort from off-screen.

Mr. Holmes turned his head towards his wife. "Perhaps the better word is envious. He wants what Sherlock has, but isn't interested in John."

"That is ridiculous!" The off-screen voice protested again.

His parents seemed to ignore Mycroft as he kept ranting.

"We are very, very happy for you, dear. Please let us know if you need help with the wedding planning. Don't worry about Mycroft. I'll talk him round to being sensible." Mrs. Holmes smiled in a calm manner. She was used to dealing with her sons.

Sherlock returned their fond smiles. "We will discuss it all at Christmas."

They said their goodbyes and ended the call.

XXX

The elegant TV host wore a royal blue dress that set off her silver blond hair perfectly as she smiled effortlessly into the camera, waiting for the studio audience to calm down. "It's time for our next guest, food blogger and writer John Watson."

John entered from stage right, smiling at the applauding audience, and walked to the middle of the stage. He greeted Tania Jenkins with a showbiz cheek kiss, and settled down in the big chair near hers.

"It's great to have you back, John." Tania said, once she had crossed her legs, and taken a sip of water.

Nodding, John still felt a little surreal sitting in this TV studio. "It's great to be back. Hard to believe it's been a year."

She pulled out a copy of his book, showing it to the camera. "You have been touring with your newest book, 'Fit for a King on a Budget'. What prompted you to do this cookbook?"

"It was mostly the responses I got from readers of the first book. There are many people out there who want to eat healthy, but are lacking the time or money to do so." John said, leaning forward a little.

The big screen behind them showed some pictures from the book. John cooking with Maggie in Coventry, and with Maria in LA.

"I understand you tested the recipes with your readers, making sure the ingredient prices were manageable in many different cities." Tania glanced at the pictures.

John smiled. "Yes. The first book had recipes I developed in Los Angeles. Produce is a lot cheaper and fresher there, than compared to a smaller city in England in winter. I tested the recipes also for being fast and convenient for a single person or a busy couple."

Tania set the book back down. "That sounds great. Are you planning another cookbook for next year?"

"Well, I've actually been checking into the possibility of opening a small restaurant in London this year with a few friends." Just saying it sent a thrill of excitement through him.

"Really? Wow! You like to keep busy. What is the concept?" Tania seemed quite interested. Her professional manner almost had John forgetting he was on a big national TV show.

John searched for the right words. He hadn't talked about this much yet. "The idea came from talking with a reader, Andy. He was in the British army as well, and also had a hard time getting regular work. It turned out vets have much higher unemployment rate than the national average."

Tania seemed intrigued. "How does that relate to your restaurant idea?"

"I want to give back by staffing the restaurants with vets. We have to work out the details, but I'm thinking of having it like a paid internship. We would train vets on all parts of restaurant work for six months or a year, and they would be qualified to work in the industry by the end." John sat back, and took a sip of water.

November and December had been many meetings with Alex and Andy, working on details of the plan. Mike was even offering to be a silent partner, supplying the start up funds for a share of the business. In the next month or two, they were going to search for a location.

"Sounds great, John." Tania glanced down to her notecard. "So, you have been on the book tour the last few weeks, and getting a good turnout. Can you talk about the costumes some of your readers have been appearing in?"

John tilted his head back, chuckling. "Oh, sheesh." He shook his head. "It all started from the end of my last book tour. A friend showed up, and as part of a silly private joke, flashed me at a signing. She was wearing a skin-colored body stocking…"

Tania held up a hand. "Hold on… I think we have a picture of that."

The big screen showed a picture of Amy flashing John, while he acted shocked. The audience laughed hard at the picture.

"Yeah, so on this book tour, a few of the readers with good memories thought it would be funny to wear a similar costume." John chuckled, remembering the first stranger who had set down his books, and opened a trench coat to flash him. It had taken a second, but John practically fell over from laughing so hard. Everyone waiting in line took pictures and video, and the flasher had hammed it up.

The screen zipped through a bunch of pictures of the fans at the signings, all with their own version of flasher costumes.

Tania shook her head, grinning at them. "Well, I heard that Jamie Oliver is referred to as 'The Naked Chef'. What name should we use for you, John?"

"Hey! I'm fully dressed in all the photos!" John good-naturedly objected. "But I really don't mind. It made the book tour quite a bit of fun for everyone."

"I also heard that Sherlock accompanied you on this book tour. What did he think of all the flashers?" Tania asked. The screen changed to a picture of the two of them at Christmas.

John admired the picture for a minute, liking how good Sherlock looked in the deep blue jumper. "We are going on these book tours together, but don't attend many of each other's events. Sherlock was busy with his own project during the tour."

"He has been active in HIV/AIDS campaigns. Is that what he was doing?" Tania read from her notecard.

"Yes, in the US, the Centre for Disease Control has a campaign to encourage everyone over 13 years old to get tested, called 'Doing It'." John gave a small smile. "Like 'He's doing it. She's doing it. We're doing it. YOU should be doing it, too.'"

The screen showed pictures of Sherlock posing in some selfies with regular people, all wearing large red stickers with the '#DoingIt' logo. A lot of them were with goofy expressions.

Tania smiled at John. "So, we want to help with this campaign. There were life-sized cardboard cutouts of Sherlock at the various HIV testing sites, and everyone was encouraged to take creative selfies with it, showing off their #DoingIt Sticker after being tested. We have narrowed it down to a handful of finalists, and need you to be the judge for which one will win."

"Oh God… the pressure, the pressure…" John put his hands up on the sides of his face, giving an overly dramatic stressed out expression to make the audience laugh.

The first picture was of a beautiful woman with long blond hair pressed up against the side of the Sherlock cutout, her dress showing a lot of cleavage as well as the #DoingIt sticker. She was giving the camera a sultry stare, and had her tongue out like she was going to lick Sherlock's face.

John just chuckled, looking at it. "OK. Next!"

The second picture had three drag queens in full costume, with garish make-up and big wigs, gathered around the cutout, giving big cheeky grins. They were all wearing opera gloves with their sparkly evening dresses, and showing the sticker on the back of their hands.

"Yeah… I like that one better. Much better." John had been too busy to see all the pictures from the campaign, and it was fun seeing Sherlock's likeness with so many people.

The next picture was a group of shirtless young men, just wearing tight jeans and big smiles. They were all well muscled and attractive, with the sticker over their hearts.

John grinned widely at that one. "I think we have a winner…." The audience cheered at that.

The last picture was of a lot of people standing together, pointing and laughing at the real Sherlock, dressed as a flasher with his trench coat open wide. It was a side view, so you couldn't see Sherlock's body behind the opened coat. The audience roared, and even more when the follow up picture came up, showing Sherlock face on. He had a big cheeky grin, flesh-toned underwear, and a large version of the #DoingIt sticker over his groin.

"Oh Sheesh…" John laughed along with everyone else.

Tania seemed particularly amused. She stood up. "Sherlock Holmes, everybody!"

John watched, incredulous, as Sherlock ran out from stage left, dressed in the trench coat, jumping to the center of the stage, pausing dramatically, before opening the coat to flash the audience. Just like in the picture.

"And we will be right back to cook up one of John's delicious recipes, after this short break." Tania said over the loud cheering and whistles from the audience, chuckling to herself.

"You are such a nut." John said softly to Sherlock, giving him a fond smile.

Sherlock belted up the trench coat, shrugging. "It's all for a good cause. If it helps get the word out, why not?"

Taking his hand, John pulled him over to the kitchen part of the set, checking that everything was in place. "Would you have done something like this a few years ago? You've been supporting the National AIDS Trust for a long time."

Leaning into John's side, Sherlock gave a small kiss near his ear, not wanting to disturb their stage make-up. "I'm a lot less serious these days. Not as afraid to show how I feel about things."

"Have I told you lately how much I love you?" John said softly, holding his gaze as the studio got ready for the next segment around them.

Sherlock gave a pleased smile back. "Not since this morning. Ages."

Tania stepped up beside them. "We are back with chef John Watson, and his fiancé and mystery author, Sherlock Holmes. So John, what will we be making today?"

John put a large saucepan on the stove. "Chinese Hot and Sour Soup. I wanted to make something healthy, quick and tasty. I modified a recipe to have ingredients most people keep in their pantry already, or can easily find in their local grocery."

Tania took the chicken broth that John passed her, pouring it into the pot. "Oh, I love that soup. Is it really easy to make at home?"

Passing her a bowl of small pieces of firm tofu, John nodded. "Yes, and it only takes about 20 minutes. Sherlock, would you grate up some of that fresh ginger?"

Sherlock seemed a bit lost, so John passed him the ginger root and the grater, before turning back to Tania. Chatting with her about the ingredients, they added garlic, soy sauce, brown sugar and rice vinegar to the pot.

"These are shiitake mushrooms, thinly sliced, but you can use any type of mushroom." John passed the bowl to Tania.

"What type of mushroom?" Sherlock leaned against John, giving him a teasing look.

"Sh-talk-key." John said slowly, grinning back. He turned back to Tania. "Next, we add in a can of sliced bamboo shoots."

Sherlock leaned in again, scrunching up his face in distaste. "Bamboo in soup? Isn't that like adding a twig? A branch?"

"It's tasty!" John chuckled, nudging Sherlock away. "People have been eating bamboo shoots for centuries. It's like cinnamon. You know that is the ground up bark of a tree, don't you?"

"Pandas and monkeys eat bamboo too." Tania jumped in to add, chucking at John and Sherlock's squabbling.

Somehow, John got to the end of the segment, with Sherlock being more of a distraction than a help.

Tania tasted the finished soup. "Mmmm delicious! Thanks again to my guests today, John Watson and Sherlock Holmes."

The audience gave hearty applause and cheers as the show ended.

"I'll say it again. You two are so much fun to have on the show." Tania gave them each a warm hug. "Please come on again next time you are on tour."

Heading back to the green room, John wrapped an arm around Sherlock's waist. It had been a busy month, with all the interviews and signings in so many cities, but somehow having Sherlock with him made a huge difference. They were used to staying in hotels together by now, taking advantage of the pool to workout, and sometimes getting massages if the hotel had a spa. They were able to eat breakfast and dinner together, and sleep in the same bed. Somehow, it just helped John keep up his energy better for the busy tour. Helped him focus while he worked.

In the green room, they washed off the stage make-up, and changed into casual clothes. John still chuckled, seeing Sherlock folding up his tan trench coat.

"So, are you really done now? No more events?" Sherlock asked, stepping closer to give John a loose hug.

John nodded slowly. "Yup. So, what do you say to taking at least a couple weeks off, just relaxing at the house here? Doing as little as possible?"

Leaning in, Sherlock rested his forehead against John's. "I'd say that sounds perfect." His lips touched John's lightly, a tease.

Grabbing his hand, John pulled them out of the green room, heading for the nearest exit. Their driver was there, ready to take them home. They made out in the backseat like teenagers the whole ride.

XXX

Sherlock was frazzled. He opened and closed five different cupboard doors.

"It's in the drawer by the fridge." John chuckled, glancing up from his tablet. He was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping some red wine, and reviewing pictures of possible restaurant sites in an email from Alex.

Pulling open the drawer, Sherlock dug around until he found the peeler. He concentrated intensely as he moved it slowly down the side of a carrot.

John grinned a little, and went back to his email. It was sweet that Sherlock had offered to make dinner, but his lack of experience was showing. Good thing John wasn't that hungry yet, as this could take a while. He was letting Sherlock fumble around and figure it out himself mostly, only offering help occasionally.

The doorbell rang, and they both froze, looking towards the front door in surprise.

"Were you expecting anyone tonight?" John asked, glancing at Sherlock.

Sherlock shook his head.

"Hmmm…I'll answer it." John got up, checking that his clothes were decent enough. In LA, he was usually in tees and shorts.

Hazel was at the door, seeming like she was going to shake apart, she was so excited. "John! Oh good, you're home!" She jumped forward, giving him a big hug like they hadn't seen each other in months, when it had only been a couple weeks.

Rolling his eyes a bit at her dramatics, John pulled back and closed the door. "Hey Hazel. Come on in, have some wine."

She chuckled when she found Sherlock in an apron with his carrots, and gave him a big hug too. Soon, she was settled at the table with John and a drink.

"So, I know you two are officially on vacation right now, but something came up that can't wait. A very interesting offer." Her grin was wide and happy.

Sherlock scooped up the carrot peels and put them into the compost bucket. "Just spit it out already, woman."

Pausing dramatically, she made sure they were both giving her their full attention. "A network wants you for a cooking show!"

John was shocked. He set his glass down. "Really? Woah."

Sherlock came over to him, giving him a hug. "This could be really great for you."

"Actually…" Hazel drawled, still grinning like a maniac. "They want both of you."

Scoffing, Sherlock walked back to the kitchen. "That's ridiculous. I know nothing."

Getting up, she strolled over to where Sherlock was slicing the peeled carrots. She took one of the larger chunks, and tossed it into her mouth. "That's why they like the idea. John could teach you how to cook, and you can banter like you did on Tania's show."

Glaring at her for stealing the carrot, Sherlock nudged her away from his area. "Move. I've got a knife."

John watched their playful sniping, as he thought about the show idea. It could be fun, teaching cooking basics to the viewers, and joking around with Sherlock. It would probably pay well, and would help them both with book sales ultimately.

Hazel eventually sat back beside John, and put a hand on his forearm. "You are awfully quiet over here. What do you think?"

"It's an intriguing idea, Hazel. Can you email me the details and give us a few days to think about it?" John gave her a half-smile. She had been a great supporter of both their careers, presenting the options and letting the boys determine their path.

Finishing off her wine, she gave his arm a squeeze and stood. "Yes, that's fine. Well, I'm starving, so I think I'll go grab something from In & Out burger. It doesn't look like Sherlock's meal will be done until the wee hours of the morning at the rate he's going."

Sherlock glared at her playfully again, and waved his knife in her direction.

She just chuckled as she left.

XXX

Eventually, they sat down to Sherlock's pasta meal. The vegetables were cut irregularly, with a few chunks not entirely cooked, but overall it was edible. John appreciated the effort and Sherlock had eaten some of his early meals that weren't much better without complaint.

Buttering some bread, Sherlock seemed calm. "So, what did you think of Hazel's news today?"

"Hmmm...It's certainly nothing I ever considered before. What do you think? Would you like doing something like that?" John twirled a fork in the spaghetti, and took a bite. The sauce was surprisingly tasty.

Taking a sip of wine, Sherlock seemed to be considering it. "Well, it would be interesting to try it, and could be good for getting more promotion of our 'brands'." He always had a bit of a smirk when he used Hazel's PR terms. "And it would be fun to do a project together."

John nodded, taking another bite of his meal as he thought it over. "Those are good points, but for some reason, I'm not that excited about doing this."

"Is it because you are already working on the restaurant project? You don't want to be stretched too thin?" Sherlock asked, his keen gaze watching for clues to understand John better.

Letting out a sigh, John shook his head. "Maybe it's partially that. I'm glad they aren't pressing us for a quick answer. It's good to have time to think it over."

Sherlock reached over to give John's thigh a little squeeze. "Once Hazel sends over the details, we'll review them carefully."

It felt good being able to discuss issues with Sherlock like this. Over the last few months, they had gotten better at communicating. Sherlock had really made an effort to be open, and John grew to love him more and more for that. His willingness to show John his vulnerable side, to appear less than perfect.

John had shared that he felt a little guilty for moving them around so often for his work, and they had worked out their schedules to give them both things they valued. John did his recipe testing in Los Angeles as much as possible, so Sherlock could write in his preferred place. Sherlock found ways to be able to write in other places, like keeping up with yoga and swimming, to keep his writing schedule similar no matter where they were.

Later, they curled up on the sofa, reading over Hazel email.

"Well, they want to start with six shows to see how it goes. That's not too much of a commitment." John commented.

Sherlock looked good in his glasses as he read. "And it films in LA, so that makes it convenient."

Finishing the email, John put his tablet down and closed his eyes. Thinking about it all. Considering how the show could work into their lives. They had to keep shifting things, as things came up.

He felt the sofa cushions moving as Sherlock shifted to lie along side him. He nuzzled into John's neck, pressing a kiss there.

"Why am I getting the feeling you aren't interested in this?" Sherlock said softly, running a hand lightly over John's chest.

John scrunched his mouth to one side, trying to find the words for what was nagging at the back of his mind. "I generally like the idea for the show, and we could do it. It would probably be great."

"But..." Sherlock cajoled. He knew there was more to it.

Turning to glance at his fiancé, John felt a surge of pure happiness and connection. Being so in tune with a partner, talking and sharing like this, was rare and beautiful.

"I kind of feel selfish about 'us'." John said, knowing it was hard to explain. "We already appear at events and occasionally together on shows like Tania's, but I don't want our relationship to be too 'out there'."

Sherlock nodded slowly, taking in the comments. "And being together on a cooking show..."

"It would be putting our private stuff more in the public eye. I love the way you tease me, and the jokes you make. I love that you almost burned the house down making toast once. I love that you are sometimes clumsy and the look of pleasure you get eating trifle." John said softly. "I don't want everyone else to see you that way. Or see us teasing each other, doing private stuff."

Sherlock seemed kind of frozen, but staring at John a little blankly. Eventually, he seemed to pull himself out of it, blinking rapidly a few times. "Oh…I didn't realize…" He seemed a little shaken by what John had said.

Turning on the sofa to face him fully, John cupped a hand along his face. "I'm sorry. Did I say something wrong? Something that bothered you?" His eyes searched Sherlock's.

Biting his lip slightly, Sherlock just gave a small shake of his head. "Hearing you saying things like that…it just hit me, really hit me, that you really know me. All this time we have spent together, getting to know each other more each day. I am endlessly curious about you, want to know everything…but I never thought of you feeling that way about me as well."

John's breath caught in his throat at the open expression of Sherlock's face. The wonder on his features, and felt that rush of feelings again. Like he did so often. He leaned in, giving kiss after kiss.

When he pulled back, he was blinking fast as well. "I love every part of you, Sherlock. Not just the perfect parts. Your small flaws make you you. I accept them, like you accept mine."

Sherlock swallowed hard. "You know me better than anyone else in the world does, and you treasure the knowledge. You really do love me."

"Did you think I would find out something about you that would send me screaming in the other direction? I wouldn't have asked you to marry me if I didn't feel we knew each other really well." John gave a half-smile.

Nodding, Sherlock leaned in for a quick kiss. "I think you are right about the cooking show. How about we tell them it's an interesting idea, but we don't have time for it in our schedules right now? Maybe in a few years, it would be a fun thing to try."

"You are OK with that?" John asked, wanting to make sure Sherlock wasn't passing on it because it was what John wanted.

Sherlock nodded.

Pulling him into a tight hug, John could feel his tension melting away. This felt right.

XXX

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: Thanks for reading this rather odd story!

-Restaurant: John, Mike, Alex and Andy eat at 'Morty & Bobs', that serves 'Honest Food' like grilled cheese sandwiches, soups and salads. They started as a stall in Netil market, serving grilled cheese, for three years before opening at the current location in 2015.

-Veterans in Restaurant Industry: A few examples...  
-4th and Olive in Long Beach, CA, is owned by Daniel Tapia, a former Navy man as well as a high-fuctioning quadriplegic, is building up his staff with disabled former military veterans.  
-Fiddlehead restaurant owner Aaron O'Reilly in Michigan City, Indiana, hired a 50 year old Desert Storm veteran, Jeannie Little. " The position will run one calendar year, with Little being trained in each aspect of the business, starting as a server in the front of the house and working her way to the back, where, as 2015 was coming to a close, she was already assuming managerial duties." "While the opportunities are surely there, from a mathematical standpoint, for veterans to find jobs in the deep restaurant pool—especially given the discipline, work ethic, and cool-headedness that syncs so well between the two—how can the parties be introduced?"  
-Bobby Henline's patrol vehicle hit a roadside bomb in Iraq, killing five of his comrades, and leaving him severely injured. He is trying to raise money to open a restaurant run by veterans.

-Halloween Parade: Greenwich Village in NYC has been holding this annual parade since 1974. It was started by puppeteer and mask maker Ralph Lee, and is the world's largest Halloween parade, and one of the major nighttime parades in the US.  
"Absolutely anything goes," says USA Today. "Be prepared to drop your jaw." Hundreds of Giant puppets, many lit up internally with LED lights. More than 50 bands with music from around the world. Over 60,000 costumed participants do the 1 mile route, with over 2 million spectators watching from the sidelines, most in costume as well. Anyone in costume who comes to the entry point between 6:30-9 pm can be in the parade.

-Brooklyn Bridge: This iconic bridge is one of the oldest in the US. It took 14 years to build, opening in 1883, and connects the boroughs of Manhattan and Brooklyn over the East River (486 m long). It is a hybrid cable-stayed/suspension bridge, originally intended only for horse-drawn and streetcar trains, with a separate elevated walking promenade along the centerline for pedestrians and bicycles. Now, it has six lanes of automobile traffic, but commercial vehicles and buses are too large/heavy to use the bridge. It was designed so the bridge and truss system that was six times as strong it needed to be. Because of this, it is still standing when many bridges built around the same time have vanished into history.  
The promenade level is split now into a side for pedestrians and a side for cyclists. There are a few benches along it, where you can take in the breaktaking views of the Manhanttan skyline.

-Star Trek Costumes: Sherlock & John are dressed as Captain James T. Kirk and Science Officer Spock from the original Star Trek TV show (1966) played by William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy. Spock's line is one paraphrased slightly from the 1926 Arthur Conan Doyle story, 'The Adventure of the Blanched Soldier'.  
The reference to Vulcans having sex every seven years is called 'pon farr'. A strong biological urge makes them go into a blood fever, become violent, and finally die unless they mate. They can have sex outside of this time normally, without the extreme mood changes.

-Game of Thrones: Marcus and Jessica are dressed as Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen.

-Mad Hatter: The MC is a Tim Burton fan, so is wearing the Johnny Depp version of the costume.

-Costumes: This fic has a lot of costumes! Perhaps it is to explore the themes of hiding yourself, like Sherlock was by having John agree to the Fake Relationship. Later on, John is in costume, but Sherlock sees right through it. People are flashing John (although wearing skin colored underwear, so not truly naked), because they feel comfortable around him, knowing he listens and takes action to help those that he can. Sherlock flashes him at the end, showing he has nothing to hide anymore from John, and is comfortable enough in their relationship to just be himself.  
But mostly there are lots of costumes because I thought they were amusing as part of the story. ;)


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